


Honey, It's a Work in Progress

by marc0bot



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Author Jack, Author/Editor AU, Demisexual Character, Editor Eric, I wrote this for the Big Bang 2k19 but-, I'm gay and need more Author/Editor au's, M/M, MY FIRST MULTICHAPTER FIC OH BOY, Miscommunication, POV Alternating, SMH is a publishing house now...., Shitty's gonna save the goddamn day btw, Slow Burn, college happened, fake novel excerpts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-09
Packaged: 2020-10-06 14:37:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 31,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20508653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marc0bot/pseuds/marc0bot
Summary: Writing novels had never even been on the table, the idea coming with too many expectations to be just as good, if not better, than his father. As much as he loved it, he just couldn’t handle the pressure.All that changed when his best friend, Shitty (don’t ask), got a job as an editor at an up and coming publishing company called ‘Samwell Publishing Haus’.





	1. Jack

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally for this year's Big Bang, but I started college and don't have time to finish before the deadline, so I'm posting it in update form instead! I have about half (5 chapters) written so far and I'll post them every other week until I run out, then updates will become more sporadic from there. POV switches between Jack and Eric for each chapter and a couple will be from one POV in a row (it's kinda all over the place with that-) 
> 
> Hope you enjoy! this is my first multichapter fic as well as my first omgcp one, so I'm trying my best!! Comments and Kudos are appreciated (aka I'll love you for it,,)

Jack loves writing, he does. He had grown up around people who just _expected _him to have a natural talent for the written word, his father being an author himself. Jack had that, but even so, being an author was a job he never imagined himself pursuing. After going to college, he truly thought he’d turn out to be a teacher of some sort; what else do you do with a degree in History? Writing novels had never even been on the table, the idea coming with too many expectations to be just as good, if not better, than his father. As much as he loved it, he just couldn’t handle the pressure.

All that changed when his best friend, Shitty (don’t ask), got a job as an editor at an up and coming publishing company called ‘Samwell Publishing Haus’. 

_“It’s awesome, dude. My office has like, practically its own bedroom,” Shitty hopped over the back of Jack’s couch, landing with a thud and his feet in Jack’s lap._

_“That’s...interesting,” Jack was not about to question the logistics of this company’s odd choice of workspace. He’d seen the building when he dropped Shitty off at his interview, and it honestly screamed ‘frat house’ more than anything else._

_Shitty pushed his toes against Jack’s inner thigh, stretching his limbs out like a cat, “Apparently they’re looking to publish mostly historical fiction which, ew, but they told me there’s pretty much no one writing that shit right now, which is _not _surprising, honestly; They’re even branching out into _poetry _of all things because of it.”_

_“Historical fiction?” Jack went to nudge Shitty’s feet out of his lap, propping his feet up on the coffee table and resting his arms on the back of the couch. _

_Shitty pouted, folding his legs under himself, “Yeah, you know, fictional shit set during wars that actually went down? Like, it’s cool to read I guess, but editing it? The worst! I know fuck-all about history and I have to fact check everything for ‘accuracy’ or whatever. Really, I don’t know how you keep all that random info in your brain Jack-o. It’s like, a lot.”_

_Jack huffed out a laugh, “Hell if I know Shits, maybe it’s the History degree giving me some special powers.” _

_“It might as well! Seriously, you should have read the manuscript I had to go over yesterday; the _only _manuscript, might I add.” Shitty covered his face with his palm, releasing a strangled sigh, “It was the most boring shit I’ve ever laid eyes on. Honestly, _you _could write better shit than that, I’d bet on it.”_

_“Yeah?” Jack perked up slightly at the idea. If he knew anything, it was that history was something he was good at, something he’d know how to write better than even his dad could._

_Shitty punched his shoulder with a laugh, then hopped off the couch towards the fridge, “Now, you got any beer or what? Cause I’m gonna need it while I tell you about the cute cover artist I made an ass of myself in front of today.”_

The next day, Jack called Shitty with an idea for his first novel and a pen name already chosen.

_“Jackson Laurent, huh? I dig it,” Shitty paused. “You’re really doing this, aren’t you?”_

_Jack shrugged, even though he knew Shitty couldn’t see, “I just think it’s time to try, at least.”_

_“I love you, man. You’re gonna be amazing, I can feel it.”_

_“Thanks, Shitty. I’ll do my best.” _

And the rest was History (no pun intended). 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If Jack is being completely honest with himself, he has terrible writing habits. After finishing his first manuscript by locking himself in his apartment for over a month and never leaving other than to get groceries, he’s gotten himself into a pretty unhealthy mindset. But hey, he finished his first novel and it took off almost instantly, so why would he think to change his methods? They obviously work. 

His editor, Johnson, never feels the need to give his unwanted opinions. If the book gets written within the deadline, he doesn’t care how Jack does it, and Jack is thankful for that. There’s a reason he refused to have Shitty as his editor when he first started out. Even though he’s a great friend and always gives Jack pretty solid advice, albeit while slightly high, he’s just too hands-on for Jack’s taste. He likes the way Johnson stays in his lane, never prying too hard or butting in where he isn’t needed. He’s never even met Johnson in person the entire 3 years they’ve been working together. To be completely honest, he doesn’t even remember what the guy looks like. 

They’re a match made in heaven. Jack can hide away for months on end, typing into the early hours of the morning with only his computer screen illuminating the room, and Johnson will only send the occasional email or schedule a short phone call. Jack loves the control his 

current editor gives him. 

His recent manuscript has been giving him an unusual amount of trouble recently, but Johnson insists he’s on the right track.

“Trust me, a sequel is the right way to go,” Johnson’s frankly emotionless voice sounds through the speaker on Jack’s phone; he continues typing as he talks, not willing to waste time.

Jack sighs, the clacking of his keyboard pausing momentarily, “I just don’t know, John. When I finished that book, there wasn’t really anything else I wanted to add. Is the current ending not enough?”

Jack could hear Johnson shuffling through papers on the other end of the line, starting to sound a tad frustrated, “Not for your audience, it is. There are people writing ‘Is This the End’ fanfiction on Tumblr, which for your genre, is unheard of. They’re not satisfied with how you ended things, and they want more.”

“But if I don’t have the motivation, it’s just gonna end up feeling lackluster...Isn't that worse than leaving it how it is? The last thing I want is to make something the reader can tell I didn’t care about,” Jack exits out of the document for the night. With only one paragraph written in the entire hour he’d been working, he knows his brain can’t come up with anything more. 

“I know you have something great floating in that head of yours, you just need to catch it,” Johnson pauses for a long moment, “Maybe what you need is a change.”

Jack squints his eyes in confusion, even though he knows John can’t see him, “What kind of change?”

Johnson exhales, sounding slightly annoyed; at what, Jack can’t tell, “I’m sure I can think of something.” 

Johnson takes another equally long pause, causing Jack to furrow his brow even more. He loves his editor, but he sure is an odd character.

“Good night, Jack. And good luck.”

“Ok? Good night, Johnson.” Jack hangs up, staring down at his blank computer screen.

“Should I be worried?” He says, though he’s all alone in his now darkened room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yawning for longer than could be considered healthy, Jack makes his way sluggishly to the kitchen counter, his eyes not yet adjusted to the harsh light of the rest of his apartment. Hopefully, a cup of coffee blacker than the bags under his eyes can help him get through just one more chapter.

After his phone call with Johnson over a week ago, Jack continues to struggle to find any motivation to write this ‘extremely needed’ sequel. He’d ended the last book with a certain finality which left little to the imagination. 

[[ _I can still feel your stares even after being home all these months. In all honesty, I’ll probably never stop sensing your presence, Isaac. You had grown on my back like a parasite, though you truly weren’t unwanted. You’d latched onto me right after our first meeting, the reality of our situation weighing us down like an unseeable force of gravity. I can still remember your smile as you draped an arm around my shoulder, cracking jokes as we set up camp. You were a flame that kept burning even when the fires were doused for the night, making sure not to give away our location. _

_“Hey, James,” you laughed into my ear._

_“I told you, it’s just Henry.” _

_“Pardon me for keeping to formalities! Anyways, once this whole war thing is over, what are _you _gonna do with your life?” you leaned even more of your weight onto my side._

_I turned my head slightly, away from your curious gaze, “I...haven’t really thought about what happens _after_, if I’m being honest.” _

_“Well, I have. It’s a good way to keep you from going crazy during all this shit,” removing your arm from around my shoulder, you moved to face me. “Once I’m back home, I’m going to write about everything that went down; I want people to read about what happened and feel what we feel, then maybe they’d understand how fucked up this all is! I’m gonna write about this exact moment, and it’s gonna make me famous. I’m going to make sure no one forgets who we lost. They’ll know our story, Henry, and they’ll never want to let it happen again.” _

_As you looked into my eyes that night, I could feel the determination in your gaze. You were going to set things right, and I would be there to watch you lead the charge. If I could’ve taken that bullet, I would’ve, no hesitation. But I wasn’t you, someone who’d lay down everything to fix what was truly wrong with the world. I was a coward, and somehow, you still trusted me. _

_“Hey, Henry,” you whispered to me in the darkness, the dirt under our bodies as we tried to find some semblance of calm during this ever raging storm. “If I die, don’t forget about me, ok?”_

_This would just have to be enough. ]]_

What else could he add to that? Henry and Isaac’s story was over; he had nothing else he wanted to say. He _did _see how fans online were hoping a sequel would reveal their relationship to be more than just friends, and Jack could understand that need. He had originally wanted to make it a realistic accounting of World War I with the added element of a gay romance, but he decided against it at the last second, leaving out any indication that that was how the story was supposed to play out. 

Jack was scared, not as much as Henry must have been, but terrified nonetheless. Scared of the unknowns, and the pressure it would put on himself as a writer to not fuck it up. He couldn’t take that much responsibility, even if reading something like that as a kid would’ve helped him immensely. It just wasn’t his cross to bear.

Waiting for his coffee to brew, Jack tries to get his mind off of his manuscript for just a few minutes. In just a couple hours, he would go over his storyboard with Johnson, and everything would work out just fine.

And that’s when Shitty walks in.

Well, not ‘walks’, more like ‘barges’ into Jack’s kitchen, phone in hand and mustache twitching. Since when did he give Shitty a key?

Shitty hoists himself up onto Jack’s kitchen island, “Wakey, wakey, Jackie-boy! Have I got news for you-” He pauses, giving Jack a once-over. “You never went to sleep last night, did you.” It isn’t so much of a question as it is stating a fact; Jack looks like he hasn’t slept (or showered) in days.

Jack doesn’t answer, just shrugs and takes a big gulp of caffeine. 

“We’re defo discussing this later, but I have more important shit to tell you right now. Like, kinda not great shit? Maybe...sorta...your worst nightmare?” Shitty flips his phone in his hands, struggling to make eye contact. 

Currently too tired to start panicking over what Shitty _might _say, Jack yawns a second time, “Just get to the point, Shits.” 

Combing his hands through his hair, Shitty sighs, “So your editor, Johnson right?”

“Yes?”

“He quit.”

Jack feels _very _awake all of a sudden, “He...what? Why?”

“I dunno, man! Apparently he got a better offer at another publishing house? But he was being _real _cryptic about it; kept saying shit about ‘the plot’ and ‘his cameo being over’. Made my head hurt.” 

Feeling the panic set in, Jack grips the kitchen counter, “What am I...I’m in the middle of a manuscript...that _he _was in charge of! I already can’t- Shitty, what am I gonna do?”

Shitty all but flies out of his seat, rushing to Jack’s side and resting a hand on his shoulder, “Don’t worry, buddy. We’re gonna find you a new editor as fast as we can!”

Knuckles turning white, Jack shakes his head violently, “I can’t just...I don’t want just any editor, I’m...I’m having trouble writing anything out as it is! This is just gonna throw me off even more...I can’t afford to...I just-” 

“Jack, listen to me,” Shitty grips Jack’s shoulders, putting on the most determined and comforting look he can muster. “You’re an incredible writer. I know that, your fans know that, and your new editor will know that too. If he doesn’t, you have my authority to fire his ass!”

Jack huffs out a laugh.

Shitty gives a smile in return, patting Jack on the head, “See? You’re gonna be just fine. And if you ask me, I think having a new partner in crime will be good for you; someone less…”

“Cryptic?”

Shitty lets out a hearty laugh at that, “Exactly...Now, why don’t I order us some breakfast pizza and you show me what you’ve got so far?” Taking out his phone, Shitty makes his way to the living room. 

Taking a deep breath, Jack goes to grab his laptop. For now, this will just have to be enough.


	2. Eric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He graduated with a degree in English and Communications and was thrown into the real world with no clue where to begin.
> 
> That’s where Lardo came in.

Eric loves books, always has. From a very young age, he read as many stories as he could get his hands on. His mama used to read him to bed every night until he quickly decided that it wasn’t enough; he wanted to do so himself. One library card later and he was hooked. 

His love for reading never faltered and when he moved away for college, leaving his figure skating career behind him, he knew for certain that this passion would be his job one day; Eric wanted to have a hand in creating what he’d loved for so long. Would he become an author? No, Eric was never very good at storytelling himself. He could do marketing, maybe, but that just didn’t seem like enough to him. Then he saw the brochure for an editing course at Samwell University, his college of choice, and it all spiraled from there. He graduated with a degree in English and Communications and was thrown into the real world with no clue where to begin. 

That’s where Lardo came in.

Larissa Duan was Eric’s best (and pretty much only) friend from college. After graduating the same year as him with a degree in Visual Arts, she asked Eric to be her roommate to cut the cost of the apartment she’d found just outside of Samwell; Eric, of course, couldn’t say no.

_“Bits! Dude, you won’t believe who I ran into today,” Lardo slammed the front door shut with a flourish, making her way to the table where Eric sat with his laptop. “You remember Ransom and Holster?”_

_Eric looked up at where Lardo was leaning against the chair opposite of him, “Justin and Adam? The guys from the hockey team?”_

_She hopped up onto the table, chair neglected, “The very same! We talked for a while about the usual stuff, what we’ve all been up to since graduation. And guess what? They offered me a job!”_

_“Wait, really? What kind of job?”_

_“Apparently they got together about a year ago and were like ‘dude, what if we started a publishing company?’ and they fucking did! It’s called Samwell Publishing Haus; their office is in the old Hockey Haus on frat row.” _

_“A publishing company?” Eric was intrigued._

_Lardo laughed, “Yeah! crazy, right? They want me to be their Designer, you know, like creating cover art for books and stuff?” Getting off the counter and moving to Eric’s side of the table, she asked, “And how’s the job search going for _you _lately?”_

_“It’s been going,” Eric sighed. Freelance was hard. Being a freelance _editor _was even harder, but it was what he wanted, so he was going to make it work. _

_“You know, I could ask Ransom and Holster if they need any editors. They’re still pretty new, so I bet they’d love to have you,” she put her hand on Eric’s shoulder. “You could probably just _cook_ for them and they’d pay you! You’re like a little brother to them, I swear.”_

_Eric closed his laptop, “Thanks for the offer, but I think I need to see if I can do this on my own.”_

_As tempting as it was, Eric wanted to succeed on his own merit. No more bribing his way with pies; He was going to make it on his own if it killed him._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was killing him. Whoever told him freelancing was a good idea surely hadn’t tried to do it themselves. Being fresh out of college, Eric had no credible experience as an editor to use when looking for jobs and not having that when trying to make it in freelance is like playing a game on the hardest level possible. 

Once he _did _start getting hired, they were all for very small projects which didn’t help to get his name out there at all. Those projects would end, and he’d be practically unemployed until his next offer came up; despite the flexible schedule, freelance isn’t as easy as it seems. He thought he could last longer on his own, but one year into giving it his all and he was exhausted.

Eric needs a stable income, one that would make sure he can pay his part of the rent on time instead of apologizing to Lardo by baking her whatever she wants. 

So he prints out his resume, bakes two of his famous apple pies, and heads over to Samwell Publishing Haus.

The Haus is just like he remembers from the few times he used their kitchen in freshman year. Though it has gone through some renovations to make it a safer working space, it still holds that frat boy look (and smell?) from when the hockey team inhabited it. It isn’t the most professional office building, but somehow, it just works. 

His knocking is quickly answered by a tall, mustached man who swings the door opened with so much enthusiasm Eric is afraid it might be removed from its hinges. For some reason, the guy isn’t wearing a shirt. 

“Sup! You’re Bitty, right? Nice to meet ya,” the half-naked man shakes Eric’s hand excitedly.

Confused, Eric retracts his hand, “Yes I...how do you know my name?” 

Leading him through the door and into the Haus with an arm around Bitty’s shoulder, the man laughs, “Oh! Lardo told me about you, said she tried to get you to work here like a year ago.”

Eric hopes she’ll be willing to try again.

“I’m Shitty, by the way- IS THAT PIE?” the guy who’s apparently called Shitty practically screams.

“Oh, yes! Two of my prize-winning apple pies; I figured I might as well make a good first impression…” 

Shitty removes the pies from Eric’s arms, “Impression made. I’ll just go...put these in the kitchen...to share later.” He practically bolts out of the room.

“Hey, Bits! What’re you doing here?” Lardo asks as she comes into view, ascending from the stairs. 

Right then, Shitty skids past her, pies in hand.

“Oh, I see,” she laughs. “Ransom! Holster! There’s someone here for an interview!” Lardo yells up the stairs and two large, former hockey players bound down the steps almost immediately.

“Bitty! It’s been so long, dude!” Ransom says, lifting Eric off the floor and into a bone-crushing hug.

Holster joins in, sandwiching Eric between the two of them, “Seriously! We missed you...and your cooking. We’ve been dreaming of your pies since graduation.”

“Speaking of pie-” The two drop Eric back to his feet and sprint to the kitchen.

Shitty is seated on top of the counter, half-eaten pie tin and fork in hand. He still isn’t wearing a shirt, “Took you long enough. You’re lucky I’m such a nice, caring guy. I was _this_ close to finishing both of these myself.”

No matter how many times he witnessed it in college, watching his pies get devoured by starving hockey players is never any less traumatizing than the first time. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two empty pie tins later, Holster and Ransom sit Bitty down at Holster’s desk.

Holster takes a seat opposite of Eric, Ransom beside him, “First things first, let’s get formal introductions out of the way.” He raises his hand for Bitty to shake. Bitty takes it. “Adam Birkholtz; I’m the Publisher here at Samwell Publishing Haus. Ransom and I are co-founders.”

Ransom goes in to shake Eric's hand as well, “Justin Oluransi; I’m also Commissioning Editor.”

Eric, slightly taken aback by their sudden professionalism, answers, “Yes, um, Eric Bittle. Nice to...meet you?” 

“Now, it says here in your _application_,” Holster winks, “that you’re interested in an editorial position. Is that correct?”

“Yes! I’m looking to come on board as a copyeditor and proofreader,” Bitty beams. This ‘interview’ is going to be a breeze. He takes out his resume and places it on the desk between them, “I did freelance work for the past year, so I have a few of the pieces I’ve worked on listed here.”

Holster snatches the paper from the desk with a little too much enthusiasm, looks it over for all of five seconds, and quickly tosses it in Ransom’s direction, “Hmm...yes, you _do _seem to have some experience under your belt. What do you think, Ransom?”

Ransom brings his hand to his chin in mock contemplation, “Yes yes, I agree. Lots of good editing shit- I mean, _work _on here.” 

Eric rolls his eyes. Sometimes he wonders how he’s still friends with these doofuses.

“It seems to me, Justin, that Eric here is wonderfully talented!”

Oh yeah, now he remembers. They may be huge dumbasses, but they’re sweet. Huge, _sweet _dumbasses.

“You’re right about that, Adam! Seems like we’ve got a real gem here,” Ransom nods, somehow containing his serious expression.

Eric blushes, “Well, I….thank you.” 

These idiots’ hearts are as big as their hockey trained behinds, and that is no small feat. 

Holster beams, then asks, “Now tell me, Eric, what is it that makes you the right fit for our company?” Next to him, Ransom is holding in his giggles.

Oh. Eric hasn’t really thought about that. He just assumed he would come here, ask if the job offer was still up, and they’d just say yes. He didn’t expect this. How could he be prepared for a full-on interview from some of the least serious people he knew?

“Well, I have an English degree and…” Holster lets out a fake yawn. “I just...love books. Ever since I was a kid, it was always a place I could go, an escape from everything happening around me.”

Holster peaks up, resting his chin in his hand.

“I love being a part of the process, helping a book reach its full potential...being an editor means I can do that, have a hand in creating those places I used to run to. If I could give that to someone else, help build them a hideout from all the bad, that would be the best job I could ever have.”

Ransom looks like he’s close to tears. 

Eric coughs, sitting up straighter in his chair, “So, uh….yeah. That’s why I want to work here.”

“Bits,” Ransom chokes out, “that was the most beautiful speech I’ve ever heard!”

Holster wipes at his eyes, “Yeah, bro. Like, we were gonna give you the job no matter what you said, but you hit us with _that_? You’re _double_ hired!” 

Racing to his side of the desk, they wrap Eric up in another hug, knocking the air out of him.

“Welcome to the team, Bitty,” Holster smiles, releasing Eric back to the floor.

Ransom pauses, “Wait. Does this mean we get more pie?”

Eric can’t contain his laughter at that, “Oh, honey, for this? You can have all the pie you want.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the experience that was his interview with Ransom and Holster, Eric is brought downstairs to formally meet his new ‘boss’, the current head of the editorial department, Shitty B. Knight. 

“Technically, I’m head editor cause I was the _only _editor at first, but not anymore! Welcome to the family, brah!” Shitty gives Eric what could only be described as a ‘bro hug’. “Nice to not be all alone anymore. The other guy who worked with us, Johnson, never actually showed up. Did all his work from home for some reason...weird guy.” 

Eric, taking a seat at the dining table, raises his eyebrow, “Oh? What happened to him?”

Taking a beer from the fridge, Shitty crosses over to the seat beside Eric, “Actually, he quit this morning. Didn’t really give a good reason, but he made shit kinda complicated. I talked to the author he was working with about the whole thing and he’s not taking it too well.” 

“That’s unfortunate...who was his author, if I may ask? Were they working on something?” if his author _had _been in the middle of a project, that could really complicate things. 

Shitty sighs, rubbing his face with his hand, “Yeah, he...Jack, goes by Jackson Laurent? He’s been working on a sequel to his first book and it’s been kicking him in the butt recently.” He takes a swig of beer, “and it was Johnson’s idea in the first place! Jack had no intention of writing one, but Johnson _insisted _it was his best bet.”

Now he really wants to meet this Johnson guy, give him a piece of his mind. What kind of editor bails on their author in the middle of a manuscript? Especially when they were so adamant on it being written to begin with? Eric might not have any experience working with a singular author long term, but he knows how important the relationship between an author and editor is. If you begin a project, it’s best to have one editor work on it for the duration, not switch halfway through and hope things go smoothly; you don’t treat your author that way.

“I can’t even imagine the kind of stress he must be under,” Eric shakes his head.

Placing his drink on the table between them, Shitty answers, “Oh, believe me, it’s a lot. My boy, Jack, he’s talented. Wrote that one book…_Is This The End?_ Instant hint.”

Eric had heard of that book before. In fact, he read it, adored it, and admittedly, wanted more. He had never seen the dynamic the two main characters had portrayed in a novel of that genre. To be completely honest, Bitty doesn’t really delve into historical fiction too much, but that book? Might have changed his opinions on the genre. Even though it’s never explicitly stated, Eric felt like he was represented, and represented well, as a gay man; something he rarely comes across in Young Adult fiction. 

“Anyways,” Shitty interrupts Eric’s thoughts, “Jack, he’s amazing. Writes like fucking poetry, but he can be...intense. Johnson was the only person who really understood Jack’s methods and I can’t help since he thinks I’m too hands-on.” 

Shitty pauses, realization dawning on his face. Somehow, Eric knows this can’t be good.

“What genres do you edit for, by the way?”

Eric shrugs, “I can take on pretty much anything, really. I’m not picky.” 

Shitty’s grin widens, though Eric can sense there’s something behind it, “I think I have the _perfect _job for you.” Somehow, he knows exactly what Shitty is going to say next.

“How about it, Eric? Wanna save my boy?”

Does Eric even have a choice?

“Sure, how bad could it be?”

Really bad, most likely, but Eric is going to be optimistic. He has a job and nothing can stop him.

He hopes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To clarify some stuff: Everyone went to Samwell and was on the hockey team except Jack and Shitty. Eric went there but wasn't on the team and met everyone through Lardo. Cool. Got it. (this au makes no sense but bare with me-)


	3. Meet-Ugly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack sighs, closing his laptop and making his way to the front door of his apartment. He turns on all the lights in his path, squinting at the harshness and willing away a possible headache.
> 
> He squints even harder when he finally opens the door.

[[ _There were so many things I couldn’t say; So many things I couldn’t tell _anyone_, despite how much I wanted to. When this all began, when I decided to tell people our story, I knew I couldn’t show everything, every aspect of our time together that made it so special. _

_I kept those moments to myself for so long, but now, I don’t want to anymore. _

_Maybe I should be scared to do this, to let the world into my head, inside my heart. If I were being honest, I’d say I’m terrified; there’s a reason I haven’t let any of this out until now. But, if I were being even _more _honest, I’m so damn ready. So damn proud of everything about us that I just can’t keep it to myself forever. I’m here right now, spilling my guts out for the world to see, because I know it’s what you would’ve wanted. The Isaac I knew wasn’t afraid of anything, couldn’t care less what people said. _

_It’s about time I do the same- ]]_

“Ughhh…..,” Jack groans, rubbing his eyes which were starting to burn from the screen he’d been staring at for the past four hours. 

Four hours. Four hours and that was all he could come up with. 

“_One day_ without Johnson and I’m already falling apart,” he mumbles to himself as he skims over his opening sequence. It’s decent, he supposes, but it doesn’t feel like _him. _He’s trying too hard and it’s obvious. 

No matter how cheesy it is, he doesn’t want to delete it. Jack has a motto that consists of never deleting a single word he writes; you never know when it could come in handy in the future. Besides, if this is how difficult it’s going to be to churn out anything for this novel, he needs any material he can think of. There isn’t enough time to be as picky as he tends to be. 

And honestly, Jack’s not even sure if he _wants_ to make this a romance at all. It’s not even the gay part that’s worrying him, it’s the fact that he has so little relationship experience that he can’t write a realistic one if he tries; he’s only ever really been with one person before and it didn’t end well, to put it lightly. 

But his readers have expectations, and he doesn’t want to let them down. Besides, it won’t be too hard to make their relationship genuine; it was what he had in mind from the start, so the seeds are already planted. 

Just as he’s about to copy what he has over to his file labeled ‘Needs Work’, there’s a slight but consistent knocking at his door. 

Shitty never knocks...

Jack sighs, closing his laptop and making his way to the front door of his apartment. He turns on all the lights in his path, squinting at the harshness and willing away a possible headache.

He squints even harder when he finally opens the door.

Standing in the hallway of his apartment building is a man Jack has never seen before, holding a pie that looks like it’s ripped straight from a cookbook and bouncing slightly from foot to foot. 

His smile is so bright, Jack feels another headache creeping in.

“Hi! Is Jack Zimmermann home?” the man asks, more chipper than should be possible at such an early hour. 

Jack has to look down a bit to answer, the guy is so short, “...You’re looking at him?”

The man startles at that, “Oh! Silly me!” 

He lets out an airy chuckle that for whatever reason, rubs Jack the wrong way. It’s way too early to be having this interaction. 

“Nice to meet you, Jack! I’m Eric Bittle,” he puts his hand between them for Jack to shake; Jack does nothing. “Your new editor? Shitty assigned me to your manuscript yesterday and thought I should introduce myself; I brought pie!” he holds the pastry up for Jack to take.

Jack blinks, looks at the pie, then Eric, pauses, then goes to close the door.

Eric stops him before he can make a safe retreat, “Wait! I just...thought we should get to know each other, maybe go over your manuscript and makes some plans over pie?” 

“Couldn’t you just email me? It’s too early,” Jack groans, not caring how inconsiderate he sounds; he’s been up for hours and just wants a break. 

“It’s 12 in the afternoon…,” Eric states. 

Jack looks back at the clock in his living room. Huh. So it is. 

“I won’t stay long if you have other plans. I just think it’s best that we go over things in person to make sure we’re on the same page.”

Jack rolls his eyes, “Isn’t that what the internet is for? You know phone calls are a thing, right?”

Eric looks at him with an expression that screams _‘Seriously?’_.

“Look,” Jack sighs, “I don’t know if Shitty told you, but I have a system. I don’t have time to mingle and I don’t want to. I just want you to look at my writing, tell me it’s shit, and help me fix it; that doesn’t need to be done in person, or with pie.” He gestures to the baked good in front of him. 

“If you’re going to be my new editor, you have to deal with that,” Jack stares Eric down, hoping to get him to understand, “I communicate strictly through phone and email, nothing else.”

Eyebrows furrowing, Eric huffs, “Well, _Jackson Laurent_, this isn’t a one-man job.” He glares up at Jack, obvious annoyance washing over his previously welcoming gaze, “If that’s how you operate, fine. But I have a system, too, and if we’re working together, you’re gonna need to compromise.” 

Jack is taken aback by this. He wasn’t expecting Eric to be so serious, not with his overly peppy attitude; he baked him a _pie_, for Christ’s sake. Still, it isn’t a welcome change. 

“And if I say no,” Jack smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes, “what then?”

Eric takes a moment to respond, a staring contest forming as neither of them refuses to break their glares.

“Well, then,” Eric smiles, “I guess you’ll just have to find a new editor.” 

Jack breaks his demeanor at that, raising his eyebrows in surprise. Eric shoves the pie into his chest, causing Jack to take hold of it out of reflex.

“I’ll be in touch,” he states matter-of-factly, then starts down the hallway to the elevator, leaving Jack alone at the entrance to his home with a tin of dessert that’s beginning to burn his hands.

Suddenly, Jack misses Johnson something awful. 

He can already tell this isn’t going to end well, having fucked it up as soon as he had the chance; Which, honestly, has to be some kind of record.

Jack closes his door, sets the pie on the kitchen counter, and goes to the bathroom to find his almost empty bottle of Advil. And boy, is he gonna need it. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, the fact that I found anyone _at all _deserves some thanks; you only went a day without someone!” Shitty exclaims on the other end of the line. 

Jack calls him basically right after Eric storms off. After calming down a bit and making a decently bland lunch (he really needs to get groceries), he puts his best friend on speaker phone and his head in his hands.

Jack sighs, “And thank you, really, but I seriously don’t think it’s going to work out.”

“Did he bring you pie?”

“Yes?”

“Than what’s the problem!?” 

Shitty, apparently, has very strong feelings when it comes to Bittle’s baking.

Glancing over at the dessert still resting on his counter, Jack rolls his eyes, “I _told _you, I just don’t think we’d work very well together.” He can still smell a hint of cinnamon. “He hates me.”

Shitty scoffs, “And what makes you think that?”

“I can just...tell.”

“You were a dick, weren’t you?” 

Damn. Shitty really can see right through him, even through the phone. 

Jack brings his head down next to where his phone is placed on the table, “I wasn’t exactly polite?” He closes his eyes, “I was just so exhausted and he was so...chipper.”

“Like a ray of fucking sunshine, I know,” Shitty laughs, “But, dude, you gotta at least try. I mean, I’d take the job if you really needed me, but you don’t want that, right?”

Having Shitty as his editor, while convenient, would most likely end in disaster. He knows this; Shitty knows this; Pretty much anyone who’s _met _them knows this. Shitty is too soft, and Jack needs someone who will let him know right away if his ideas are bad. Too many near-disasters occurred in their college days that were usually accompanied by Shitty saying something along the lines of “Don’t worry dude; what’s the worst that could happen?” while high out of his mind.

Jack loves him, but he can be a pretty terrible influence. 

He lifts his head from the table, “No, I don’t.” 

“Exactly; Now you need to go and apologize to Eric for being an utter dickhead and welcome him to the team like he deserves, got it?” Shitty can somehow sound like a very disappointed father sometimes and frankly, it’s terrifying. 

“Oh! And eat that fucking masterpiece of a pie before I break into your house and force-feed it down your throat.”

And he’s back. 

“I’ll try,” Jack says, “But I don’t know about the pie.”

“I’m serious, Jack Zimmermann! I _will_ bust down your door!”

“Bye, Shitty.”

In the end, Jack _does_ eat the pie. Shitty might be right about the ‘masterpiece’ part; it might be the best thing he’s ever tasted. 

But enough about that, he really should call Eric and apologize…

After he finishes one more chapter. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and so begins the slow burn......
> 
> and yes, Jack is a bit of a dick in this; don't worry, he'll come around-


	4. Common Ground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He waits an entire month before going to Jack’s place again.

After his little ‘meeting’ with Jack, Eric goes straight home with one less pie and a lot less excitement about his new job than when he left that morning. Thankfully, Lardo isn’t planning on going into work today and is more than willing to talk shit. 

“Wow, sounds like a dick.”

“Seriously!” Eric is currently venting to her in their kitchen, going over everything that went down at Jack’s door while stirring a batch of brownie mix with a little too much enthusiasm; Baking really does wonders when letting out any pent up aggression. “How can someone be so unprofessional?”

Lardo sticks her finger into the mixing bowl, licking off the batter, “I dunno, man. From what Shitty’s told me, the guy can be kind of a hardass.”

Eric tries his best not to cringe at her ‘sampling’ his baking, “And I’m supposed to deal with that? Leave it to me to get the most difficult author in the world right off the bat…” He pours the mixture into an already greased pan, “Does he really think working only through email is a good idea?”

She hops up onto the counter, “Well, according to Shitty, that’s how he and his last editor did things; that turned out pretty well too, got on the New York Times Bestseller list and everything.”

“I _know_, I just-” he opens the oven, “don’t get it, I guess.” Placing the brownies on the rack and closing the door, Eric leans against the counter beside Lardo, “I just don’t know if this is gonna work out; he pretty much hates me already.”

Lardo laughs, “Now what makes you think _that_?”

“I don’t know, I think the fact that he didn’t want my pie is evidence enough.”

She punches him in the shoulder at that, “Yeah, anyone who doesn’t like your pie isn’t worthy of it in the first place.” Jumping down from the counter, she puts a hand on Eric’s shoulder, “But who knows, maybe he’ll change his mind; about you _and _the pie.”

He hopes she’s right. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Eric wonders if he should apologize; for what, he’s not sure, but he really just wants to get to work and Jack doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to make the first move. 

Maybe he can crank an apology out of him later, but for now, Eric decides to take matters into own hands.

If Jack wants emails, Eric can certainly deliver.

_**To: **J Zimmermann _

_**Subject: **Let’s try this again_

_Since you insisted that this be our main form of communication, I’m extending an olive branch in the form of this email. I’d like to try and go over new additions to your manuscript on a weekly basis to make sure we don’t gloss over anything and since I was told that you’re experiencing difficulties with this current project, I want to give you my full attention. I’m looking forward to working with you on this piece, which I’m sure is going to be a hit._

_I hope you enjoyed the pie; don’t be surprised if I come by with more in the future,_

_Eric R. Bittle_

He’s trying his best to sound professional even after kind of wanting to slap Jack in the face for a second. Hopefully, it will be good enough to fix things. If not, Eric could always beg Shitty for a new project. 

After waiting a few minutes for a reply and getting nothing, Eric goes back to the task at hand: finishing those brownies and eating the entire tray with his best friend while watching the newest season of Queer Eye, as is tradition in the Duan-Bittle household.

About four episodes and three brownies into the night, Eric is scrolling through his Twitter feed when he gets a notification from his work email.

_**From: **J Zimmermann_

_**Subject: **re: Let’s try this again_

_Sounds good. I’m almost done with the first chapter. I’ll share it with you when it’s done. _

Well, at least he didn’t tell him to fuck off. Also, Jack somehow writes just like he talks; with little emotion. The exact opposite of what he expected from a man who made thousands of people cry with his words, including Eric. 

The rest of the night goes smoothly, with Lardo drooling on his shoulder and no more brownies in sight. What he doesn’t expect though, is one more email popping into his inbox as he starts to doze off.

_**From: **J Zimmermann_

_ **Subject: **re:re: Let’s try this again_

_ Thanks for the pie. It was good. _

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all, Eric thought before turning off his phone and effectively passing out beside his roommate for the night. 

~~~~~~~~~~

He waits an entire month before going to Jack’s place again.

For those past 3 weeks, they’ve been emailing practically every day, though Jack keeps it strictly work-related. His emails are short and to the point and Eric comes to learn that holding a conversation with Jack Zimmermann is almost impossible, his replies never having enough within them to easily answer back; Eric hopes talking to Jack in person won’t prove to be as difficult, if he even gets to speak with him at all. 

_**To: **J Zimmermann_

_ **Subject: **Meeting today?_

_Hey, Jack! I was thinking it’s about time we try to meet in person again. I’m not needed at the Haus today, so I could come over any time if that’s alright with you; we can go over the changes you’ve made to your outline. Any filling preferences (for pie, of course. I’d be happy to bake you more)?_

An hour passes with no response, which isn’t unusual for Jack, but Eric’s not sure if he wants to wait any longer for an answer. 

Another thirty minutes of refreshing his email later and Eric decides to just show up and see how things go, minus one pie (he’ll bring extra next time...if there _is _a next time). And so Eric hops in his car and makes his way to Jack’s apartment.

Once he arrives, he checks his email one more time, just in case Jack finally answered with some passive-aggressive line telling him not to come. 

Nothing. Eric enters the lobby.

He checks _again _once he’s in the elevator. Still nothing. 

He checks _one more time_ as he walks down the hallway toward Jack’s door. His inbox is still empty.

So he puts his phone away, and knocks. Jack, surprisingly, answers fairly quickly.

“Goodness, when was the last time you _showered_?” 

Ok, maybe Eric shouldn’t have let _that _be the first thing out of his mouth, but it is a very reasonable question because Jack looks like an absolute _mess. _He’s leaning on the door frame, glaring down at Eric with eyes that look like they are about to sink with the weight of the bags underneath them. He smells ...not great, which is why Eric thoroughly believes the answer to his question is ‘a week ago’ _at best. _And boy, Jack looks grumpy, like he hasn’t seen the sun in weeks; Eric would not be surprised if he hasn’t.

Jack’s glare deepens, “I _can _and _will _slam the door on you again.”

Before Jack can keep to that promise, Eric stops him, “Sorry! That was terribly rude of me.” He rubs the back of his neck, “I just wanted to come by and try talking in person again, since it didn’t go so well last time.” Understatement of the year. 

“I’m kind of busy right now; could we do this another day?” 

“Oh! I guess...when would you-”

Jack interrupts the question. Well, not Jack, but his stomach. 

Jack’s eyes widen, hand instinctively coming to clutch his abdomen. 

Eric pauses, then bursts into giggles, “Wow! I guess I should’ve been asking when you last ate!” He calms his laughter down before continuing, “Go take a shower, then we’re getting you something to eat.”

Jack isn’t glaring at him anymore, looking more embarrassed than anything else. “But I...I was in the middle of-”

“Everyone deserves a break every once in a while; my treat!” Eric retorts. “And besides, if it gets you to remove the stench, it’s a win-win for both of us.” 

Instead of answering, Jack grunts, then heads inside and down the hall toward, hopefully, a shower, leaving Eric in the hallway. He takes this as an invitation to come inside and makes his way into the living room. 

As Eric’s about to settle into the couch, he notices two photos; one large and hanging in a frame above a small bookshelf, and the other right below it, small and propped up on the top shelf. The large piece is a photograph of a lake at sunset, the silhouettes of two ducks gliding across the water’s surface. The image is beautifully composed and Eric wonders for a moment who took it, because it gives him a warm feeling just looking at it. 

The smaller picture, however, is of Jack, quite younger, and an older couple who Eric assumes are his parents with how eerily similar he and the older man look next to each other. They’re in front of what looks like a bookstore, his father holding a book and grinning so wide his eyes are shut. His mother is holding the same book, Eric guesses, and has an arm around Jack’s shoulders while Jack, with the same stoic look that he uses now, holds a newspaper article of some sort. The image is too small for Eric to read the title, but he guesses it has something to do with the book his parents are holding. 

Just as he’s about to lean in to take a closer look, Jack appears from the hallway with damp hair and a slightly more presentable set of clothing. 

“Great! Now let’s go get lunch; I’m starving,” Eric smiles, trying not to look like he was snooping. 

Jack doesn’t seem to notice anything odd, however, and answers with a resounding, “Fine.” He walks past Eric, grabs his keys, and goes to open the door, “Let’s make this quick. I want to get this chapter drafted by tonight.” 

~~~~~~~~~~

Eric drags Jack to a little cafe across the street from Jack’s apartment. It’s small yet homey and when they walk inside, he can see Jack’s shoulders relax just slightly. 

There are two huge shelves full of books of every genre and a sign encouraging people to browse and read at their leisure. Eric has been obsessed with this little hole-in-the-wall spot since Lardo recommended it to him, and he thought that Jack would enjoy the quiet atmosphere; from the way Jack’s face softens as he skims his fingers over the spines of a row of books before examining the cover of one, he thinks he might be right about that. 

“I’ll go get us some coffee and sandwiches if you find us a place to sit?” Eric asks, watching as Jack puts the book he was viewing back on the shelf with an almost misplaced sort of tenderness, like the binding could fall apart if he wasn’t too careful. 

Jack doesn’t answer, just gives a grunt in confirmation, which Eric is starting to see as Jack’s go-to form of communication, and makes his way towards a table for two by the window. 

Eric orders two basic turkey sandwiches, a black coffee for Jack, and an overly-sugary latte for himself. As he waits, he glances over at their table. Jack is starting to look tense again, his hands clasped on the table’s surface as he looks out the window. Eric hopes he won’t be too rude this time around and since he somehow got him to leave his house without too much of a fuss, he seems to be lucky today when it comes to interacting with him. 

Once their order is given to him, he makes his way over to the seat opposite of Jack, placing his sandwich and coffee in front of him. 

Jack eyes the mug, “Black coffee? How did you know?” 

“You just seemed like the type,” Eric replies. “Am I wrong?”

He blows on the drink and takes a sip before answering, “No.”

They begin eating in silence, Eric focusing on his food as Jack continues to gaze out the window. Not enjoying the incredibly awkward silence that’s reared its head, Eric decides to make small talk. 

“So, where’d you go to college?” He asks.

Jack doesn’t turn to look at him, but answers, “Shitty and I went to Brown.” 

Eric isn’t really surprised by this, what with all the crazy college stories Shitty loves to relay to him whenever they’re both at the Haus. Shitty never did say which college they actually went to, though, like it was more fun if the things he told him about didn’t have a physical setting. 

Either way, Eric continues, “Oh! I’ve heard it’s really nice there. What did you study?”

“History.”

To be honest, that isn’t what Eric had expected. Most authors tend to lean more towards degrees revolving around English if they know they’re going to be writing as a profession.

He laughs, “Now I get why you write in that genre!” Taking a sip of his latte, he goes on, “I went to Samwell myself; that’s where I met Lardo, Ransom, and Holster, actually! They were all on the hockey team and I kind of infiltrated their little family for a while.” 

Jack doesn’t say anything, so Eric continues, “I studied English and Communications; just seemed like the best route to take if I wanted to be an editor.”

“Did you always want to edit for a living?” Jack asks quietly, though Eric can’t tell if he’s actually all that interested.

Eric slightly forces his smile, “Sort of? I’ve always loved reading, but I knew I couldn’t write good enough to get anywhere. Editing someone else’s writing just worked for me.” He looks at Jack for a reaction; his expression is practically blank, which Eric takes as a reason to keep talking, “I don’t know...It’s exciting, I guess. To see a book come to life? And know that you were a part of it?”

Jack finally moves to look at Eric, an unreadable yet slightly less brooding expression crossing over his face, “I get it.” He wraps his hand around his mug, but doesn’t pick it up, “Writing can be shitty sometimes. Best to leave it to the ones crazy enough to try.”

That might be the most words Jack’s ever said to him at once, and that includes his emails. Maybe things are starting to turn around; maybe they can actually be friends-

“How long do we have to stay here? Cause if you don’t mind, I need to get back to my office and do my job,” Jack asks, annoyance lacing every word. 

Eric sighs, gets up from his seat, and gives Jack a slight glare before answering, “Just another hour at most. Even authors need to get off their asses and see the sun for once.”

Jack’s eyes widen, but he gets up as well and walks past Eric and out the door.

Catching up to him, Eric asks, “Now, how do you feel about a nice walk in the park? Get those creative juices flowing?” Jack doesn’t answer and doesn’t look at him, he just picks up his pace.

“Well, lead the way, I guess…” Eric sighs.

He might be on his last leg, but he’s gonna run with it.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What exactly is the point of all this?” Jack asks, suddenly breaking the silence that lasted the entire walk to the park. 

Stopping abruptly in his tracks, Eric replies, “Of what?”

Jack gestures around them, “Of getting lunch, bringing me here.” 

“Does there have to be a reason?” Eric asks, brow furrowing slightly in confusion. 

And Jack, with the limited set of words he seems to allow himself, pauses, shrugs, and says, “I guess not.” He makes his way over to an empty bench looking out at the lake.

Catching up with him, Eric watches Jack set his bag on the bench and begin to ruffle through it, “I guess the point is to get to know each other? We didn’t exactly get off on the right foot.” Jack grunts; Eric continues, “And you just seemed so, I don’t know, closed off? I thought getting you out might help-”

Eric doesn’t finish his explanation, too interested in what Jack has pulled out of his bag; a camera, and a nice one at that. 

Jack is cleaning the lense with a cloth when he finally looks Eric’s direction, “What? You never seen a camera before?” His lips quirk slightly, giving off a hint of amusement.

Did Jack just chirp him? Maybe his plan is working, after all. 

“I do photography,” Jack adds before Eric can answer, “As a hobby. I took a class on it in college.” 

Another thing to add to the slowly growing and slightly vague list of facts about Jack Zimmermann. 

Jack doesn’t wait for a reply, just leaves Eric at the bench and moves a few feet in front of them to the edge of the water. He raises the camera to his face and begins to play with the settings, or at least, Eric guesses that’s what he’s doing; he knows next to nothing about photography or fancy cameras. 

The lake is still, and Jack keeps all his focus on it for a solid five minutes as he changes angles and positions. He looks calmer than Eric’s ever seen him, in his element, almost. His mind wanders back to the picture of the lake in Jack’s apartment, puts two-and-two together, and realizes Jack is so much more than just a reclusive, broody author. He may be kind of an asshole, but Eric can tell he has layers; hopefully, at some point, he can peel some of them away.

From his seat on the bench, Eric asks, “Why did you become a writer?” Jack pauses for a moment, but continues with his work, “It’s just...you’re obviously good at other things. What made writing so special?” 

Jack finally brings his camera down to hang from his neck and, not moving from his spot, asks, “Do you know Robert Zimmermann?” 

Eric frowns. He doesn’t recall ever hearing that name, other than the obvious fact that he’s related to Jack in some way. When Jack looks back at him, he sees Eric’s expression and falters, “You really don’t know who he is?”

“Sorry, should I?” 

“No, I just-” Jack blinks, a look of shock (and relief?) washing over his face, “He’s my dad.”

Eric perks up, remembering the smiling man from the photo, “Oh!” He pauses, “Why would I know who your dad is?”

Making his way back to the bench, he takes a seat beside Eric, “He’s...a pretty famous author. Number One Bestseller and everything.” He leans back, “I just thought you would know about him, with your line of work.”

“I may love to read, but I’m extremely picky,” Eric laughs. “So, did he get you into it?” 

Jack looks over at him for the first time in several minutes, “Sort of? I kind of grew up around it. No one really expected me to do anything else.”

Eric nods, encouraging Jack to continue. 

“So I just...stayed away from it for a long time, even though I love it. Didn’t think I could live up to everyone’s expectations, I guess,” Jack sighs, “But then Shitty got that job, and I just kind of realized I was being a coward, letting my dad’s fame stop me from at least trying.” 

“And it’s turned out pretty alright, at least so far,” Jack concludes, looking out at the water.

Eric doesn’t know what to say. He never expected Jack to open up the way he just did, and now he feels like whatever he says won’t suit the atmosphere Jack just created. Even though Jack’s been very rude to him on a number of occasions, Eric can’t help but feel almost sorry for him. Living under a person’s shadow, especially that of someone you love, can’t be easy, but Jack didn’t let it stop him.

Eric wishes he could say the same for himself. 

He doesn’t _regret _his short-lived figure skating career; he’s proud of it, misses it deeply. The rink was always the place he went to when the world inside a book wouldn’t suffice. The cut of his blades helped drown out the words shouted at him in hallways, made him feel in control of something in his life. Eric _knew _his dad didn’t approve of it. He wanted his son to be just like him, all football and beer and a nice girl to settle down with. What he got wasn’t what he’d hoped for, and Eric felt like he’d failed him by just existing. 

So he left the ice, and never looked back. He’s still not sure if it even helped. 

And it’s not like he doesn’t like his job, he loves it! Sometimes he just wishes he didn’t have to lose one to keep the other.

Setting his camera back in his bag, Jack gets up from his seat, “Thanks, I guess, for inviting me out.”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Eric answers, “Oh, of course! I had a great time.”

“Just don’t expect this to become a regular thing,” Jack says. “I’ve still got my way of doing things and I’m not trying to change them anytime soon.”

Letting out a small laugh, Eric replies, “How ‘bout a compromise; Meetings once a week, in person, your place.”

Jack gives him a look, “I don’t know-”

“I’ll bring pie.”

Letting out a loud sigh, Jack answers with a resounding, “Fine.” Standing in front of Eric, he says, “I’m gonna head back now, try to get to my word quota for the day.”

Eric leaps up from the bench, “I’ll walk back with you! My car’s at your building and-”

“Then let’s go, I haven’t got all day,” Jack interrupts. “_Someone _used up most of it.”

Eric laughs, matches Jack’s pace, and watches that first layer slowly fade away. 

~~~~~~~~~~

_**From: **J Zimmermann_

_ **Subject: **Thanks._

_You were right. Getting out helped. Here are the drafts for chapters 3 and 4 that I was able to crank out last night. _

_Thanks again,_

_Jack_

_________

_ **To: **J Zimmermann_

_ **Subject: **re: Thanks._

_I’m glad you enjoyed yourself! I had a great time as well. We could make it a regular thing, if it helps clear your head; I’ll look over everything so far and we can go over them and any new additions next week (I’m assuming the offer of weekly meetings still stands?)._

_Eric R. Bittle_

_P.S. Would you like to exchange numbers? It may be easier to just text each other instead of all these formal emails. :)_

_________

_ **From: **J Zimmermann_

_ **Subject:** re: Thanks. _

_ Sure._

Still, somehow, a man of few words. Even so, Eric can now say with confidence that he’s excited for what comes next as he works with Jack. Eric isn’t one to back down from a challenge, and this might be more difficult than he’d imagined when he started at Samwell, but if he isn’t even going to try to make amends, he might as well quit while he’s ahead.

And Eric isn’t planning on quitting, if he can help it. If he can become friends with Jack in the process, that’s just a bonus. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have one more chapter ready to post in 2 weeks after this one, and then there's gonna be a bit of a hiatus until free time opens up for me to write,,,,I apologize in advance :/


	5. A Little Bit Closer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eric had been curious, to say the least, when he learned that Jack was going through with the plan to make his two male leads fall in love; he still is.

After their little outing, Eric begins visiting Jack once a week as planned, with any other conversations happening through texts.

Eric tries not to bother him, but he’s an avid texter; Besides, Jack doesn’t seem to mind and Eric just wants to get to know him better. 

**ME**

** __ ** _I looked up what books your dad wrote….I hope you don’t mind!_

_ **JACK** _

** __ ** _It’s fine_

** _ME_ **

** __ ** _Now I kinda wanna go buy the entire series it looks so cute! _

_But I won’t if that makes you uncomfortable_

_ **JACK** _

** __ ** _I don’t mind. They’re good books._

_Obviously_

_Wouldn’t have been bestsellers otherwise._

_ **ME** _

** __ ** _How’d he come up with it? The whole hockey prince thing??_

_ If I may ask_

_ **JACK** _

** __ ** _Oh _

_It’s based on me_

_Kind of_

_ **ME**_

** ** _!!!!!!_

_ Really!?_

_ **JACK ** _

** __ ** _My dad played hockey _

_Professionally _

_He retired a little before I was born. Took up writing when I was around 4._

_I played hockey too, but I wasn’t very good and quit pretty early on. He wrote The Hockey Prince as a way to make me feel better about the whole thing, I guess. _

_It’s funny, now most people know him as Robert Zimmermann the author and not Bad Bob the NHL player...everyone still expects me to follow in his footsteps, but instead of hockey it’s writing. Haha._

_ **ME** _

** __ ** _Well, if it means anything, I think you’re doing alright_

_Following his footsteps, I mean_

_Thank you for telling me…._

_Now get back to writing, mister!! _

_ **JACK** _

** __ ** _Yes sir._

~~~~~~~~~~

Eric brings a different pie to Jack’s place every week (at some point, he’s going to run out of fillings to choose from). They sit at Jack’s kitchen island, eating their own slices and going over new additions to the manuscript from both of their laptops. 

It’s crazy, getting to read Jack’s story as it’s created. Only four months into the project and he already has almost half of the book drafted. He knows from what Shitty has told him that “Jackie Boy works in mysterious ways”, but he didn’t really know what to make of that until now.

Oh, and his writing also happens to be gorgeous. He’s read Jack’s first published work before, but apparently he wasn’t fully appreciating his talents until now, getting to read Jack’s thoughts before anyone else.

[[ _The bunker was dusty, dark, and so very quiet. I could see the vague outlines of your body and hear the calculated breaths you took in every few seconds._

_We were alone for the first time in what felt like months; there was no fire, no forced banter, no insistent snoring from other soldiers, other _friends. _We were alone - so dangerously alone - with nothing but the clothes on our backs, the weapons we held onto for dear life, and a single pouch of drinking water, half empty. I swallowed my own spit. _

_Though we were underground, it was cold, our clothes damp from the rain outside, and I knew the night was screwed the moment I realized I had lost my backpack during our escape. No blanket; no warmth._

_You stripped down to your underwear, tossing the wet clothes into a random corner. I glanced away as you brought yourself down to the floor, back resting against what seemed to be a set of crates. Your eyes found mine as you whispered, “Well, come on then. Get down here.” You gestured to the empty space beside you._

_I paused. I could sense you rolling your eyes._

_“If I die, it ain’t gonna be cause of some shit like hypothermia.”_

_Hesitantly, I added my uniform to the soaking pile you created and lowered myself to the floor, hands coming in contact with cold concrete. You moved closer, and before I had time to react, your arms were around me, hands linked behind my back. I’m pulled against you forcefully, face rested in the junction between your neck and shoulder._

_I left this part out before, but this was where you kissed me for the first time; feather-light, on the crown of my head._

_I shivered; you laughed. It was a small thing, but it helped. _]]

Eric tries not to cry. This is supposed to be a professional meeting, but as he reads the end of the latest chapter, he feels like curling up into a ball and screaming at Jack to stop playing with his emotions. 

Later, when he gets home, he’ll let it all out. For now, he needs to do his job. 

“Wow,” Eric blurts out. So much for professionalism. 

Jack looks up from his screen across the table, “What? Is it too much?”

Too much? God, it’s just enough; it’s perfect.

Instead, Eric replies, “No! It’s fine, a great way to end this part.” He gives a small laugh, “It’s just- Well, I guess I’m a little overwhelmed.”

“In a bad way, or-”

“No no no! Definitely in a good way,” Eric reassures him. “It’s….beautifully written, honestly. This might sound unprofessional, but I was _this_ close to crying and we’re only halfway through! I’m impressed!”

Jack ducks his head, staring intensely at his keyboard, “Oh, well ...that's good to hear, I guess. I’m still not all that pleased with this part, to be honest.”

Eric’s eyes widen slightly, watching as Jack refuses to make eye contact. One thing Eric has come to realize since working with him is that Jack is so very hard on himself. He wants perfection, and even if Eric sings his praises like he is now, Jack still can’t seem to realize just how talented he really is. He can tell that Jack loves what he writes, but it takes him a while to get to that point, the legacy of his father breathing down his neck as he types.

Sometimes Eric just wants to take Jack by the shoulders and shake him until he gets it through his head that no, he’s not his father, but yes, he’s just as good, if not better; he’s creating his own legacy and he’s doing a damn good job at it, too. That would _definitely _be unprofessional, though, so Eric just thinks it and hopes Jack can hear him. 

“I see nothing wrong with it so far, but if you make any changes later, just let me know,” Eric replies, keeping everything else locked inside his head. Maybe later he’ll tell Jack what he really thinks, but they’re still not all that close, at least not close enough for Eric to give him some emotional pep talk. 

Jack nods, and they move onto the next chapter. 

An hour or so later, before he’s gearing up to leave, Eric says, “Oh, I almost forgot! I was thinking, maybe you could come to the Haus about a month from now? Larissa wants to talk about ideas for cover art and I think there’s some marketing and administrative stuff to go over, too.”

Jack goes to open the door for him before replying, “Sure, should we just do our meeting there too, then?”

“Of course! I’ll email you some possible dates later,” Eric smiles. “Now, don’t forget to eat an actual meal tonight. I know my pie is amazing, but it doesn’t actually count as dinner.”

“Haha, ok.”

“I mean it! And don’t stay up too late. I know you want to finish chapter seven tonight, but don’t forget to pace yourself!”

“Bye, Eric,” Jack ushers him out the door.

“See ya next week! I’m making peach cobbler!” Eric waves as he makes his way down the hall, Jack’s door closing unceremoniously. 

And with that, he’s on his way. 

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hell yeah! Bits with the good shit!”

Eric laughs as Shitty expertly removes the raspberry pie from his hands, skipping over to the kitchen as Eric closes the front door.

From the kitchen, Shitty yells, “JZ, your magnificent sidekick is here!”

Making his way to the living room, Eric spots Jack lounging on the couch, head turning to meet his own. He gets up and comes to stand a couple of feet away from Eric.

Pointing to the moldy piece of furniture, Eric asks, “How are you still alive after sitting on that?”

Jack laughs; Eric marvels at the rare occurrence of it.

“After a while, you become immune to pretty much everything in this place.”

“It’s been six months and I still refuse to go anywhere near that thing,” Eric grimaces before continuing, “Anyway, I hope I didn’t make you wait long. I can’t handle Shitty’s disappointment whenever I don’t bake anything for him.”

Jack gives a small chuckle, “Yeah, no one can. Disappointing him makes you feel like you’ve kicked a puppy. And don’t worry, I haven’t been here long. Shitty’s been keeping me company.” 

Eric smiles, “That’s good.” He gestures to the stairs, “Well, shall we?”

Before Jack can answer, there’s a crash, a screech, and Shitty’s voice declaring, “JACK, BITS! GET IN HERE! COMPANY BONDING TIME!”

Lardo’s voice, at a much more reasonable volume, adds, “With pie.”

“YES, THAT TOO!”

Eric shakes his head and smiles, looking up at Jack, “Well, can’t get out of company bonding time, can we?”

Giving a small smile in return, Jack answers, “Of course not. Lead the way.”

~~~~~~~~~~

And that is how Eric finds himself in the Haus kitchen with every member of Samwell Publishing Haus, sitting at the dining table and perching on countertops, all with slices of pie in hand. 

Everyone seems to be in today, even Chowder, Dex, and Nursey (all company appointed nicknames given to them by Ransom and Holster). Eric doesn’t see Dex and Chowder much, since their departments rarely ever work with the Editorial side of things and Nursey is a fairly new face to their author scene, but since Jack’s here, they seem to all want to discuss one thing or another with him.

Chowder, bouncing slightly in his seat, turns to Jack and asks, “So when do you think you’ll be done with the whole thing? Because I was hoping we could release during Pride Month! That way we can market it to the LGBT community along with your current fanbase!”

Jack has been with Samwell about a year longer than Eric, but he still looks just as overwhelmed by Chowder’s neverending enthusiasm when he answers, “Uh, I’m not sure, but June is six months from now so I’ll hopefully be done before then?”

“And how popular do you think this one will be?” Dex interjects. “I was looking at how many copies we should start off with to get the ball rolling. I’m thinking five thousand is a good start.” 

“Well-” 

“That’s definitely not enough. Didn’t his last book do like, really well? Why not just base it off of that? It’s the sequel, isn’t it?” Nursey chimes in, simultaneously cutting Jack off and making Dex look redder by the second.

Before Jack can answer, Dex retorts, “Nurse, why don’t you stay in your lane? I’m in Administration, not you. You haven’t even published anything yet; you don’t know how it works.”

“What if-” Jack tries to intervene, but is interrupted by Nursey bringing his hands in front of him and rolling his eyes. 

“Dude, chill out. It was just an idea. And if you’d actually take a look at my manuscript, then maybe I _would_ be published by now.”

Dex stands up from his seat, “How many times do I have to tell you, I’m _not _an editor!”

“I know that, but-”

“GENTLEMEN,” There’s the clattering of forks falling to the floor before Shitty continues, hopping down from his spot on the counter and moving to take the two plates of half-eaten pie from Dex and Nursey’s side of the table. “No lovers’ quarrels during company bonding. Your pie privileges have been revoked.”

Dex sputters, “But we’re not-”

“Silence!” Shitty yells a bit too loudly. “Nursey, your poetry is killer. If you want me to look over it, just ask.” He turns to Dex, who’s still fuming, but has at least sat back down, arms crossed in front of his chest, “Dex, my man, you are an asset to this team and we’re lucky you’re here.” Pausing, Shitty smirks, “Now kiss and make up.” 

Nursey laughs while Dex fumes, leaving the kitchen with cheeks red from more than just anger; Nursey follows close behind.

Shitty’s got a point. Sometimes the tension between those two is intense. 

Holster breaks the silence, “Damn, guess we need to schedule more bonding time.” 

“Thanks for diffusing that, Shits,” Ransom says, patting Shitty on the shoulder as he goes to put his dishes in the sink. “They could have gone on for hours.”

Shitty raises his hand in a mock salute, “My pleasure. Gotta keep the peace around here.”

Eric gives Jack an apologetic smile, mouths ‘sorry’, and gets a silent chuckle in return; so much for a calm, uneventful meeting. 

Chowder, the angel that he is, adds his dirty plate alongside Ransom’s and makes his way out of the kitchen, “Well Jack, email me with a summary and maybe a few excerpts and I can start putting together some posts for our social media pages!” He pokes his head back in and adds, “And thanks for the pie, Bitty! It was amazing!”

“No problem, sugar,” Eric answers. He swears that Chowder is the glue that holds this Haus together. 

Lardo, who has been stoically silent during the whole affair, slides up next to Jack and says, “Now that _that _shitshow’s over, I have a few designs to show you. And can I just say, I might have peaked with these ones.”

“Sounds good,” Jack answers, face relaxing into something less tense and more at ease. Lardo has some sort of magic power that makes anyone feel more comfortable around her; Eric’s going to need to ask her for her secrets. 

~~~~~~~~~~

After going over Lardo’s cover designs, Eric leads Jack upstairs to his office, a room right across from Shitty’s. 

They get to business straight away, having wasted much of the afternoon chowing down on pie and witnessing Dex and Nursey’s ongoing feud. They’re a little more than halfway done with the first draft at this point, and Eric is genuinely impressed with how far Jack has come since he started this project. Shitty had voiced to him many times that Jack was having some problems figuring out which direction the story should go, but so far he seems to have gotten over this hurdle; Eric hopes he’s partly responsible for getting Jack out of his funk, but he isn’t holding onto that kind of wishful thinking. 

“Jack, I gotta say, I’m really proud of what you’ve accomplished so far,” Eric says, looking at Jack from across his desk, “You seem to be on the right track. No more writer’s block, at least?”

Jack ducks his head - something Eric has realized means that he’s coming up with something to say - and answers, “Yeah, I ...wasn't doing so well, at first. Had a lot on my mind.”

“Oh. About the plot?”

Eric had been curious, to say the least, when he learned that Jack was going through with the plan to make his two _male _leads fall in love; he still is. He’s read many reviews about the first book, many of them having the same idea that Isaac and Henry had great chemistry, the perfect candidates for new, refreshing queer representation. Tumblr was - and is - obsessed with the idea. He guesses that Jack saw what people where saying and decided, why not? It would make the historical fiction genre much more appealing to people who would otherwise turn away from it, and the groundwork was already there, the tension between the two characters evident within the first book, even if it maybe wasn’t what Jack was trying to convey. 

It definitely wasn’t on purpose; that’s what Eric thought at first, but now? If Jack really didn’t want the two to be romantically involved, then why change his mind? Is he really that dead set on making his readers’ dreams come true, to change the entire dynamic of the characters?

Eric hesitates before saying, “Jack, can I ask you a question?” 

“Sure, what is it?”

Fuck it. 

“Why did you decide to make them gay?”

Seriously, Eric, what happened to being professional?

“They’re not gay, actually.”

What?

“What?” Eric coughs. How does that make any sense? From what he’s read so far, if they’re not gay, then neither is Eric.

Jack avoids eye contact and continues, “They’re bi. Or, at least Henry is. Isaac I’m not so sure.”

“Bi?”

“Yeah.”

“...Huh,” Eric blinks. “Why?”

Jack chuckles, finally looking towards Eric, “Why is he bi? Or why did I write them that way?”

“Why’d you um ...write them that way?” Eric asks. “I just was surprised, is all. Is it because of what your fans were saying?”

Shrugging, Jack answers, “I guess that’s part of it. They weren’t exactly wrong.”

“About?”

“Them. Being together.”

“Oh.”

“It was sort of my plan from the start,” Jack says. “To write them like that, but I chickened out.”

Eric closes his laptop and slides it to the side, freeing the space between him and Jack at the desk, “So why now? What changed?”

Jack sighs, “I saw what everyone was saying and realized I might as well just go for it.” He pauses, then continues, “I guess I saw it as a second chance, to write the story how I always imagined it. I didn’t think I could do it justice at first, too much pressure.” 

“To write a queer romance when you’re…?” 

Eyes widening slightly, Jack answers, “Oh. Well, it’s not that I’m not...qualified.”

Eric tilts his head.

Ducking his head, Jack answers, voice close to a whisper, “I’m gay. Sort of, I mean...I’m also ace? Demi. I’m demisexual.”

Now it’s Eric’s turn to widen his eyes, “Oh! That’s...that’s great, Jack. Thank you for telling me.” 

A nervous smile comes to rest on Jack's lips, “I just thought-” He meets Eric’s gaze, “If I can trust you with my writing, I can at least trust you with this.”

Oh. 

_Oh._

Whatever’s making Eric’s heart beat faster, it should know it’s being terribly rude. 

But Jack’s still smiling at him, and his heart rate quickens, and his hands feel very sweaty all of a sudden. Is he dying? 

No. It’s much worse than that.

Eric regains his composure just in time for Jack to say, “Well, I should get going. This love story isn’t gonna write itself, eh?”

Eric nods; Jack goes to leave. 

“Wait!” Eric blurts out; Jack turns back to him. “You should know I...I’m gay, too.”

A pause; Jack’s smile turns into a slight smirk, “I know.”

“You...know?”

“Took a wild guess.”

Eric gawks, “Jack Zimmerman! Don’t go makin’ assumptions about other people!”

“Maybe you should take your own advice,” Jack smiles. Eric is warm all over.

“Oh, go write about your boys in love!” 

“I plan on it.”

Jack leaves, closing the door on his way out. Eric let’s out a breath he feels like he’s been holding for far too long.

Oh, he is so screwed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the title of this chapter is from Closer by Tegan and Sara-  
I might just start naming them all after songs cause I'm unoriginal....  
Also, I couldn't for the life of me figure out how to format the texts the way I did in my Google doc so,,they're kind of a mess sorry!!
> 
> So,,this is the last chapter I have pre-written,,which means I probably won't be posting 2 weeks from now unless I have some semblance of free time. Being a theater major is wild..especially when you gotta do the required tech classes-
> 
> I'm also struggling to start chapter 6,,I know where I want it to go but not how it should start..save me


	6. Something to Inspire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s felt like no time at all, like someone hit fast forward. It’s only at this moment that he’s felt everything slow down.

Things have been going...surprisingly well. Jack’s writer’s block seems to have finally decided to take a vacation, leaving a vibrant, pie baking editor in its place. This has become the fastest he’s ever written anything before and the process has been so much easier than the first publishing venture despite all of the setbacks. He didn’t expect it, but he and Eric make a good team.

He owes Shitty big time for dealing with his bullshit. 

And introducing him to Eric, though he’s gonna keep that part to himself for now; Shitty would probably get the wrong idea and never shut up about it. 

Despite the confidence he has in Eric and how everything seems to be panning out, Jack still can’t seem to agree with the notion that this sequel will be a hit. He likes what he’s written so far...to an extant. He thinks it’s good, _knows _it is, but sometimes he still can’t shake the feeling that there’s another story he should be making a reality right now, that the first book was meant to be the end and that he’d get to move on to a bigger, greater story.

He just doesn’t know what that story is yet, or if he’ll ever find it. 

Sometimes it feels like he’s sticking to what’s safe. Why fix what isn’t broken? Why not milk this world he’s created for all it’s worth? What’s so wrong with staying in his comfort zone?

Why, all of a sudden, does he want to take a risk?

~~~~~~~~~~

“Are you sure this chapter works?” 

“Jack, how many times do I have to say this? Yes!”

“I just-” Jack ducks his head, “It feels off. We’re getting so close to the end, I don’t know if it really makes sense…”

Eric sighs, closing his laptop and moving to Jack’s side of the kitchen table, “Look, I know it’s hard to feel confident in your own work. It feels like no matter what, it’ll never be good enough.”

Eric places a hand at Jack’s back, rubbing small circles in between his shoulder blades; it’s the most intimate Eric’s been with him in all the seven months they’ve known each other, and Jack immediately feels his shoulders relaxing. 

“But you gotta realize that even if you’re not satisfied with what you’ve written, just doing it in the first place is worth being proud of,” Eric smiles, and Jack finds he can’t look away. 

“Even if you never come to love what you’ve created, someone will,” he pauses for a moment, then says softly, “Doesn’t that make it all worth it?”

Jack can’t seem to form a coherent sentence at that, just sitting there, locking eyes with Eric and feeling _something_ pull at his chest. 

It’s Eric that breaks the moment, standing abruptly to take his place across from Jack once again, face flushed and eyes downcast, “Anyways, you can at least trust me to tell you when it really _isn’t _working, ok? I can be pretty brutal when I need to be!” He laughs, a little too loud in the dead silence that’s formed.

Realizing he needs to answer and stop staring, Jack murmurs, “Yeah, of course. Um...thanks.”

“No problem! It’s my job, after all.”

Eric smiles again, and Jack feels like he might go blind if he looks at him for too much longer; He really needs to fix his sleep schedule.

“Anyways, let’s get back to business,” Eric reopens his laptop, his gaze no longer lingering on Jack, “Only four more chapters to go! I can’t wait to see where you take this story, Jack.”

Jack averts his attention away from Eric, rubs the tiredness from his eyes, and says, “Yeah, me too.”

~~~~~~~~~~

He’s...done. The book is done. Ten months of work, and it’s finally finished.

Well, the final draft is at least. Now all they need to do is look it over a few more times and then they can begin printing the first batch of copies. Jack never realized that the journey to publishing could go by so quickly, but everything just seems to be fitting into place this time around.

What Eric said to him three months ago, about not being so hard on himself, hasn’t left Jack’s brain since. He’s still struggling with the notion that his work _is _good enough to garner the attention it has, but he’s trying. He no longer voices any insecurities, to Eric or himself, unless they come from a valid place. He knows he judges himself too hard, that it feels like he’ll never live up to the path his father inadvertently paved for him, but diving into this sequel has given him the chance to be better towards himself. 

Eric helps, in more ways than one. 

Along with being an amazing and attentive editor, Eric has somehow wormed his way into Jack’s space, which was once only occupied by Shitty and his own laptop. They’re not just writing partners now; they’re friends. Jack doesn’t know when his feelings changed, but he’s no longer annoyed by all the pastries he brings over or the sunshine smile that used to give him headaches but now somehow clears his mind with a glance. 

Maybe it happened when he came out to Eric, maybe it was one of the many times they went out to lunch, or maybe it was when Eric insisted on being his model while taking photos in the park _after _one of their many lunches. 

_“Do you want me to pose? I can pose!”_

_Jack laughed and lowered the camera to his chest, “You don’t need to be in the shot at all, you know? I’m perfectly fine with just the scenery.”_

_Eric giggled, a devilish smile gracing his face as he asked, “Why? Do you not like what you see?” he did a little twirl before facing Jack once again, “I’ve been told that I’m very photogenic.”_

_“By who? Shitty? Not much of a compliment coming from him.”_

_“Rude!” Eric gasped, clutching his pearls like the real southern bell he insists he isn’t. “I’ll have you know, Mr. Zimmermann, that many girls had crushes on me back in Madison.”_

_Letting his camera hang around his neck, Jack bumped Eric’s shoulder with his elbow and said, “Must have broken a lot of hearts.”_

_“Oh yes, I was such a player. All the pining after straight boys made me too busy to notice any girls fawning over me,” He bumped Jack’s shoulder back. “I looked pretty darn handsome in sequins; all the figure skaters loved me.”_

_“Straight boys, eh?” _

_“Ah. Yes, sadly. Guess I never learn…” Eric paused, looking out into the water. “Still pining after boys I can’t have.”_

_Huh. Eric looked like he was glowing, looking out at the skyline, backlit by the sun. _

_The sudden shutter of Jack’s camera made Eric flinch, and Jack exclaimed, “Sorry...It just looked really pretty, your silhouette and the lake behind you...I can delete it!”_

_Eric swiped his bangs out of his face, the lighting creating a halo around his hair that made Jack itch to raise his camera again. He resisted the urge and tried to capture the memory of it instead. _

_“It’s fine! It just surprised me, is all,” Eric laughed, a little nervously, a slight blush visible on his cheeks despite the poor lighting. “...Can I see it?”_

_Jack jumped, “Oh! Yeah, of course.” He closed the distance between them, shoulders touching as he showed Eric the image; it needed some editing, but it really was one of the best shots he’d ever taken. He kind of wanted to hang it up in his living room, but that would be weird, right? The lighting was just gorgeous, that was it; that was definitely why he couldn’t look away. _

He finds himself looking at the photo from that day again, and feels that same pull in his chest that he can’t quite explain. Maybe the answer to his creative woes is hidden somewhere inside of it; maybe this is where his next story lies. 

Sighing, he saves the image to his computer, and goes to bed. 

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s been raining for the past week straight, and Jack is tired of it. 

Usually, he’d gladly take the excuse to stay inside his apartment, coop up at his desk and type until his wrists cramp up and he can no longer add another word. Recently though, he’s been feeling antsy. In the last few weeks, he hasn’t written anything other than small revisions to the manuscript, but since going over it last night, he can’t find anything else that needs fixing; it’s as good as it’s going to get, at this point. 

He and Eric aren’t scheduled to meet for another few days, but Jack is bored and, admittedly, a bit lonely. Eric must have seriously wormed his way into Jack’s brain, making him hate alone time. 

He could call Shitty, but he’s been swamped with trying to finish up revisions for his author’s newest piece and when Shitty gets in the zone, distracting him could be fatal for everyone involved. 

So he sucks it up, and calls Eric. 

“Jack?” Eric answers, confusion obvious in his affliction. 

Jack sinks into his couch and sighs, “Yeah, it’s me.”

“What’s wrong? You never call me.”

“Well, uh…” Jack pauses before biting the bullet. “I was just wondering if you...wanted to come over?”

“Oh!” Eric’s voice answers through the speakers; Jack can practically see his facial expressions from the tone of his speaking alone. “Is there something you wanna go over? I thought we weren’t meeting until Friday.”

Of course, Eric would think this was for work. Jack _never _suggests talking in person unless it’s scheduled; he’s the one who refused to meet at all in the first place before Eric wore him down. 

Jack lets out a nervous huff, “No I uh...just thought we could hang out? Maybe you could help me make lunch?” he winces; Jack’s never been good on the phone, let alone in person.

“Oh!” Eric answers again; at least it’s just as surprising to Eric as it is to Jack. “Of course! That sounds wonderful…” he pauses. “Have any idea what you want for lunch? I could bring some ingredients over.” 

Jack laughs, nerves subsiding slightly with the ring of Eric’s voice through his phone, “I think I have everything we need to make some grilled cheeses if that works for you.”

“Well, if we’re having grilled cheese, we’ll need some homemade tomato soup! I’ll bring some tomatoes!”

“I have tomatoes, Bittle.” 

“Well aren’t you a sassy one today! Fine, but if we’re going the cozy route, I’m bringing blankets.”

Jack rolls his eyes and laughs some more, “I have those too.”

“Not enough if we’re making a pillow fort, which we _are _doing by the way,” Eric’s laughter sings in Jack’s ear, close enough to almost tickle. “Besides, you can never have too many blankets.”

“Of course,” Jack agrees, the corners of his lips cracking into a small smile. 

“I’ll be right over!”

As they say their temporary goodbyes, Jack gets up and makes his way into the kitchen. He might as well get out everything they need now so they can get to work right away; Jack is starving, and Eric won’t know where everything is anyway. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Just as he’s setting all the blankets he owns on the back of the couch, there’s a knock on Jack’s door. 

“Hi, Jack,” Eric smiles, bundled in what looks like at least five layers and holding even more blankets in his arms. 

“Hey, Bittle. Need help with that?” Jack chirps.

Eric rolls his eyes, which are practically the only visible part of his face due to the huge scarf wrapped around his neck, “I’m stronger than I look, Mr. Zimmermann. I can handle carrying a few blankets.” 

Eric walks past Jack and into his apartment, taking about three steps before tripping on the end of a blanket. Thankfully, Jack’s reflexes aren’t slowed down from the rainy weather and he’s able to easily steady Eric with a pair of hands at his shoulders. 

“You can handle it, eh?”

“Oh, shut it,” Eric steadies himself and unceremoniously drops the pile of blankets on top of the hoard Jack already created on the couch. “Now, I think it’s time I finally get acquainted with that gorgeous kitchen of yours.”

“I knew you only worked with me for my kitchen.”

“You know it,” Eric laughs, beginning to peel off his scarf, jacket, and hoodie, revealing a baby blue sweater that makes Jack wonder if it’s really as soft as it looks. He removes his gloves and goes to wash his hands in the kitchen sink; Jack follows.

Standing next to Eric, he begins to wash his hands as well, “Looks like you’re still not used to the weather. How long have you lived here, exactly?”

“Chirp, chirp, chirp,” Eric rolls his eyes, but his smile gives him away. “Not everyone’s got crazy Canadian superpowers. I swear you and Ransom would go out in a snowstorm in your underwear and say it’s beautiful out.” 

Jack laughs, handing Eric a towel to dry his hands with, “I’m pretty sure that’s a Canadian tradition, it’s how we gain immunity.”

“Well I, for one, would rather keep my fingers and toes intact, thank you,” Eric laughs again.

It seems like today is a day for more laughter than Jack’s participated in since college. It’s...nice.

“Now, let’s get cooking! That pillow fort isn’t gonna build itself,” Eric announces, already beginning to chop the tomatoes. “Think you can handle making the sandwiches?”

“I know how to use a stove, you know.”

“Could’ve fooled me!”

Jack laughs, shakes his head, and turns on the burner. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Grilled cheeses are, unsurprisingly, an easy venture, so Jack is assigned to pillow fort duty while Eric finishes their soup. 

“PIllow forts are a daunting task! We don’t want our food to get cold while we’re at work, now do we?” Eric explains, stirring the contents on the stovetop.

“Of course, Mr. Bittle,” Jack answers, bowing slightly as he makes his way to the living room. 

“Call me that again and you’re banned from the fort!”

“Not if I build it from the inside out!”

“Good luck with that!” Eric calls out, not even turning to look at Jack as he makes his way to the impressive pile of blankets they’ve created.

Jack definitely needs that luck, because pillow forts are somehow _impossible _to build. No matter how hard he tries, he just can’t seem to keep the blankets from caving in on themselves. After many futile attempts that lead to Jack starfishing on the floor of his living room under a pile fleece and knitting, Eric walks in with plates and bowls steady in both hands.

The laugh Eric lets out is more like a shriek, causing him to almost spill soup all over his front until he sets the dishes down on the side table. His laughs turn into hiccups as he removes the blanket covering Jack’s face. The pout Jack gives is not childish in the slightest. 

“I guess the pillow fort was too much of a challenge,” Eric wipes a few tears from his eyes, reaching out a hand for Jack to take. 

“Can we eat now?” Jack asks, taking Eric’s hand. Eric is surprisingly strong, easily helping to lift Jack out of the mess of blankets. 

Once Jack is back to standing, Eric quickly lets go of his hand, “Of course! Let’s find a movie while we’re at it.”

And so Jack finds himself experiencing a moment of deja vu, on the couch with Eric’s feet in his lap. The TV playing some fluffy Disney film is new, as is the plate of home-cooked food, but the closeness is the same; everything, however, feels much warmer, even though the single blanket they picked up is covering Eric’s legs more than anything else. 

Once they finish their meals, Jack sets their plates on the side table and sighs, sinking into the couch a little deeper. He feels content, full of food he could never have made on his own, the weight of Eric’s feet grounding him in his place. 

“What’s on your mind?”

Jack startles, turning his head to Eric who’s looking at him with an expression that can only be described as warm; like the soup they just ate, or the blankets that refused to become a cozy fortress and are instead still left in a pile on the floor. 

“Nothing, just...nothing,” Jack answers, his hand coming to rest nonchalantly on Eric’s calf; if he feels Eric flinch, he doesn’t acknowledge it. 

Eric closes his eyes and leans his head back on the armrest, “Sounds nice.”

“What’s on _your _mind?” 

Sighing, Eric says softly, “It’s stupid.” 

“I doubt that,” Jack replies, other hand coming to rest on Eric’s ankle.

“It’s just that-” Eric pauses, looking back at the TV. “I just can’t believe we’re almost done. It feels like it’s gone by so fast.”

Jack feels that, deeply. Sometimes he wonders if this whole experience has been a dream and that he’ll wake up tomorrow and have nothing to publish, no new editor to help him out of his funk, no inspiration; a one-hit-wonder, cursed to have one book to his name, the author who cracked under the pressure. It’s felt like no time at all, like someone hit fast forward. It’s only at this moment that he’s felt everything slow down. 

“Yeah,” Jack says, thoughts once again going a mile a minute, brain backed up enough to only mutter a single word in response. 

“To be honest, I don’t really want it to end.”

“Me neither.”

Eric, finally lifting his head to look back at Jack, asks, “Do you ever want to do something, I don’t know...different? Like, completely out of your comfort zone?”

Jack huffs out a small laugh, “All the time.”

“Sometimes I just feel like I missed out on something, like I’m stuck in one place and can’t break out,” Eric stretches out his legs, toes brushing Jack’s inner thigh. “I think I just stay because it’s comfortable.” 

Eric, somehow, seems to be reading Jack’s mind. He didn’t really believe they had much in common, but apparently he was wrong. Eric has been there through this whole experience, tapped into Jack’s potential to write something more personal, more daring. It makes him feel like he could leave this metaphorical pillow fort he’s created for himself, he just doesn’t know what’s outside of it. 

“Maybe we can try something new together,” Jack says, looking to Eric.

“Yeah, maybe we can.”

Maybe, Jack’s willing to find out. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Minutes after Eric says his goodbyes, promising to come again on Friday for their scheduled meeting, Jack finds himself staring at a blank screen, a new document open and glaring back at him. He doesn’t know what drove him to open his computer, just that there’s something he needs to do; he can feel the words simmering at the surface of his brain. 

One thing Eric had said keeps repeating itself, bouncing back and forth in his head, making his fingers itch to create.

_“To be honest, I don’t really want it to end.”_

As Jack begins to type, he realizes;

He doesn’t want it to end either. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Grilled cheese and tomato soup is top tier rainy day food and I'm craving it after writing this....
> 
> Sorry this took so long to get out!! I was really stuck on this chapter and there was a huge break between writing chapter 5 and this one so it was hard to get back into it. Hopefully participating in Zimbits Bingo will help me get back on track, and I'll have lots of time during my recovery from top surgery in about a month to write,,,all my ideas.
> 
> Thankfully, I have the last few chapters basically planned out, but I might not get around to writing the next one until after finals :/


	7. A Change in Perspective

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitty has set up camp in his brain somehow, sparking something in his subconscious that just makes the words flow so much easier than they ever have before. 
> 
> He may have finally found it, the story he was looking for.

Blinking the tiredness from his eyes, Jack finally takes his gaze off the light of his computer screen and towards the light out of his bedroom window.

He jumps; _what time is it?_

“Shit! Did I stay up all night?” Jack asks, no one around to hear but himself.

5:00 am. He wrote nonstop for almost _seven hours, _and it’s all good! Or at least, he has a good feeling about it. It didn’t even feel like he was writing at all, the words coming out faster than he could type. He didn’t even outline a single thing, just went for it, and he doesn’t hate it! Which for Jack, is a real win.

It’s not that he doesn’t like the sequel he and Eric were able to create. He’s proud, even, of how they were able to wrap everything up so nicely considering the fact that he had no intention of writing it in the first place. The last page, he feels, will leave his readers with the satisfaction they deserve:

_[[ So there you have it. The truth, the whole picture, no more lies. You don’t deserve to have your story, _our _story, hidden or altered or slashed to pieces. You didn’t deserve to die either, but truthfully, no one did. Sometimes I still ask myself what exactly were we fighting for. You, me, all the friends we made while we were trying desperately to stay alive, were nothing but pawns in a game that was rigged from the very beginning. _

_Wow. You sure rubbed off on me, didn’t you? All that talk of rebellion you were so passionate about. _

_I never took you all that seriously at the time, but I wish I had. _

_I blame the war for so many things; for my fucked up knee and my fucked up brain, and for blessing me with you and then taking you away, like it needed to shoot one more bullet into my leg before it decided it was done with me and you were, unfortunately, my Achilles' heel. You became my weakness, but also my strength. I wouldn’t be here now, writing these words, if it wasn’t for you._

_At the start of this, I said I was terrified. There was a reason I didn’t let the world know the whole story the first time around, too afraid that they would taint it, maybe, or that it was only for us to remember. But quickly I realized, you don’t deserve that, to have all the amazing things we did die with me. They deserve to live on. _We_ deserve to live on_ _and not be forgotten. _

_I hope I made you proud. I owe all of this to you._

_Love,_

_Henry James ]]_

He couldn’t have asked for a better sendoff. Henry and Isaac weren’t just important to his audience, they were everything to him. Not coming out to his readers officially was a choice he’s still happy he made, not wanting his sexuality to disrupt from his work, but _This is Not the End_ somehow became an outlet to let people know that they are not alone. Jack knows how it feels, to be afraid of letting the world know the deepest parts of yourself. Writing is his outlet, letting him say what he’s so bad at expressing with spoken words. 

He might not be screaming “I’M GAY” from the rooftops or waving a rainbow flag down a city street, but he’s told his story in the way he knows best: through these characters that he’s come to love. 

Jack would’ve never gotten this far if it wasn’t for Eric. That first chapter had him dying to just give up and let the book sit on its own, but Eric showed him there was something just _waiting_ to be written. 

Eric was right. He’s _still_ right. This new idea came to him so quickly it was almost dizzying. Eric, cooking in his kitchen. Eric, on his couch. Eric, with his smile and his chirps and his words of encouragement. Just..._Bitty._

Bitty has set up camp in his brain somehow, sparking something in his subconscious that just makes the words flow so much easier than they ever have before. 

He may have finally found it, the story he was looking for. 

Jack needs to let someone read this, get some sort of feedback that lets him know he’s not crazy for thinking too much into it. He could ask Bitty to look it over, but he was over pretty late last night and Jack knows he’s probably sleeping the day away. 

Bitty. Eric is _Bitty_ now. I guess they really are friends now, as crazy as it seems to Jack. 

He never did apologize for being such a dick at first, did he?

Well, save that for another day. For now, he calls Shitty.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What’s so urgent that you’ve asked me out on a date, _babe_?” Shitty chides, stuffing at least five french fries into his mouth.

Jack decided to have Shitty meet him at him and Eric’s usual lunch place, the cafe with the books and the calming atmosphere. He figures if Shitty is gonna be, well, shitty, he might as well do it in public. Maybe he won’t be so loud if he’s in such a quiet place, though that hasn’t stopped him so far. 

Jack stirs a small amount of milk into his coffee (Bitty really has rubbed off on him, black coffee no longer his go-to) and answers, “I just have something I want you to read and I thought you’d like this place. Lardo recommended it, you know?”

Shitty doesn’t choke on french fries, but it’s a close one. “Really? Well, Lardo does have good tastes,” he sighs dramatically, playing all parts the lovesick fool before jumping back into his usual persona, “And what’s this about having me read something? Don’t you have Bitty for that now?”

“I just didn’t feel like bothering him today. We hung out pretty late last night.”

“Oh? Jack Zimmermann? _Hanging out_? You two must be pretty serious,” Shitty chirps, giving a suggestive wink.

Jack shakes his head, all too familiar with his friend’s antics. “It wasn’t like that. We just made dinner and watched some TV, nothing special.”

“Jack, sweetie. For you, that’s like a proposal,” Shitty takes a long sip of his coffee, giving Jack a bit of side-eye. 

Sighing, Jack continues, “Anyway, I just...last night, I wrote something. Or- _started_ to write something, but I think it could become _something_, you know? So I wanted you to give it a read.”

Resting his fingers on his temples and squeezing his eyes shut, Shitty answers, “Hold on a second, just translating Jack Zimmermann Speak into Normal People Speak.” He pauses before opening his eyes, “Got it. Sure, brah, of course I’ll take a look. It’s not every day _the _Jackson Laurent comes up with a new bestseller!”

Jack gives a small laugh, takes his laptop out of his backpack, turns it on, and opens up the first document before sliding it over to Shitty to read. Shitty promptly goes into Work Mode, scanning the first chapter at lightning speed. 

“So far so good. I really like John as a character, and making him a poet is really interesting. Got any more for me?” he asks. 

Jack replies by taking the computer and scrolling to the scene that he was most proud of: the meeting between the two love interests. 

[[ _“So, you’re a poet?” someone asks, his voice radiating interest and his southern twang lifting the words almost like a song; John wonders if he could bottle the sound up and put it into words somehow. _

_John looks up from his notebook to look at the owner of the voice, and comes face to face with...how should he put it...sunshine inherent. If the concept of warmth were a person, maybe. John wonders if he should be writing this down. _

_“Ah. Yeah, you could say that,” John answers, looking into eyes so brown he feels like he might fall into them if he isn’t too careful. “At least I’m supposed to be.”_

_“Now what does that mean?” The man, _Evan_, according to his county library nametag, asks; a librarian, of course. _

_Looking back at the blank page he’s been staring at for the past hour, John answers, “Writer’s block. Terrible case of it. I’m supposed to be working on my new poetry book for my publisher, but I just can’t seem to find the right headspace.”_

_“I see,” Evan, the kind, inviting librarian replies, looking down at John’s abandoned pages. “I think I can help with that,” he says before walking over to a shelf in the back of the reading area and seeming to pile as many books into his arms as possible._

_As John glances over at him, Evan’s face set with determination and his eyes carrying a sense of helpfulness that the poet has never felt before, he thinks he just might be right about that. _]]

“Adorable, dude. So not your usual style, but I’m digging it,” Shitty admits.

Jack shrugs, “I know, trust me. There’s more though if you wanna read further into it.”

“Damn, Jackie-boy, you really _were _on a roll last night, weren’t you? Gimme-”

Making grabby-hands, Shitty wills Jack to open up the next document, and Shitty continues to read in contemplative silence for almost an hour everything that Jack had pulled from his brain the night before, almost one hundred pages of a love story that came out of thin air; a poet and a librarian, helping each other grow and falling slowly in the process. 

When Shitty finally closes the laptop, Jack can tell he’s close to crying. His friend can be a bit overdramatic, sure, but he never thought a modern romance, the exact opposite of his usual fare of military conflict and death, would have the same emotional impact. 

“Dude, this is, pun completely intended, fucking _poetry_,” Shitty half-whispers, eyes glistening but not quite wetting his cheeks just yet. “You _need _to publish this. If you don’t, I’ll steal it from you and do it myself.”

Jack wouldn’t put it past him. “Thanks, Shitty.”

“Don’t test me,” he responds, looking as serious as he can be. “Seriously though, I don’t get why you wouldn’t wanna show this to Bitty. I think he’d wanna know that you’re basing a character on him.”

Jack pauses. “I didn’t base anyone on Bitty.”

Shitty gives a look that’s just as confused as Jack feels, “Are you joking?” He waits for a response, but Jack just sits there, silent. “Evan? Eric? That can’t be a coincidence, man.”

“I just liked the name,” Jack responds, completely not understanding where Shitty could be getting this idea.

“You described him as literal sunshine...which I say about Bitty..._all the time_,” Shitty says slowly, like he’s trying to help Jack process the words; Jack still doesn’t see it.

“I don’t see it.”

“The main character is a writer named John, Jack! _John_!”

Jack takes a sip of his coffee, now lukewarm, “So I might’ve based him off of me. That doesn’t mean Eric is Evan; it’s supposed to be a love story.”

Shitty blinks, “And?”

“I’m not in love with Bitty.” 

Silence. Shitty gives Jack a look that could only scream ‘_seriously?’_ before letting out a frustrating sigh and looking at Jack like he’s the biggest idiot he’s ever had the privilege of meeting. 

Jack’s not in love with Bitty. They’re friends now, of course, but that’s all. Jack likes his company, sees him as an amazing partner that lets Jack’s writing shine more than he ever thought it could. Sure, he likes being around Bitty, and talking to Bitty, and making Bitty smile, and sometimes he catches himself staring at the crease that forms in Bitty’s brow whenever he’s reading something on his computer and wishes he could reach his thumb out to smooth it, but that doesn’t mean he’s _in love_.

More Silence. Shitty’s looking at Jack like he’s three seconds away from slapping him in the face.

Oh.

_Oh._

“I think I’m in love with Bitty.”

“NO SHIT, DUMBASS!” Shitty exclaims, leaning over the table and slamming his palms on the surface.

Now the entire cafe is silent, and everyone’s looking at them like they’re insane; they might be right.

“Sorry, folks! Nothing to see here! Go on with your day!” says Shitty, giving an apologetic wave to all the patrons he disturbed, which is all of them. He drops into a whisper, “Took you long enough to figure that one out, you big Canadian moose.”

Still in a state of shock at this revelation, Jack whispers back, “What do I do?”

“You tell him, dumbass.”

He can’t.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?” Shitty asks.

Bitty doesn’t like him like that.

“He doesn’t like me like that.”

Of course he doesn’t.

Shitty responds, “And you know this how?”

How could he? God, Jack is so unprofessional.

“God, this is so unprofessional,” Jack says, covering his face with his hands.

“That’s never stopped anybody before.”

Jack lets out a pained sigh, “I don’t wanna make him uncomfortable. What if he doesn’t wanna work with me anymore?”

“That’s not going to happen.”

“It might!”

“Look, dude,” Shitty says, placing a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “You can’t just never tell him and hope the feelings go away. You gotta bite the bullet. if he doesn’t feel the same way, he doesn’t feel the same way, and that’s that.”

“I can’t risk it, Shitty,” Jack replies.

He can’t lose Bitty; not as an editor, but as a friend. If Jack tells him, there’s no way in hell it would turn out as he wants it to. How could it? Jack was such an asshole to him at the beginning, that’s not something you just forget. Sure, Jack is nice to him now and has been for a while, but who would want to date someone who used to look at them like they ruined their entire life just by existing? Jack wishes he could take it back, all the shitty things he said and the way he acted, but he can’t. Bitty is such an amazing person, he doesn’t hold it against Jack, but that doesn’t mean he’s willing to be more than friends. 

Jack has to do something. He has to fix this for the both of them, before it can even happen.

“So if you’re not gonna tell him, how are you gonna have him edit this book? You’re not subtle, dude,” Shitty asks, pointing to the laptop between them.

He’s right. If Jack’s going to protect what they have, he can’t let Eric read this manuscript.

“He’s not going to edit it,” Jack responds.

“Then who is?”

Jack pauses before answering. “You are.”

“Me? What, are you just gonna fire him? You can’t do that.”

Shitty’s right. He doesn’t have that power. Besides, if he fired Bitty, he’d probably never speak to Jack again. 

“I’m not firing him,” Jack says, pointing at Shitty, voice back to a whisper. “But you can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry not posting in over a month...I'm a big dumb gay who was literally doing nothing for a solid week after top surgery and didn't do what I promised myself I would do...which was to finish this chapter. But it's finally here! And it only took a day to write,,,my dumbass-
> 
> tbh I have no clue when the next update will be,,I'm in about 4 other omgcp event atm so who knows? not me that's for sure-
> 
> (EDIT) was looking through my notes for this chapter and thought you’d all like to see how I outline things...it’s chaos:
> 
> * Shitty reads it and is like “dude it’s fucking beautiful but does Bitty know about this??”  
* Jack’s a dingus and is like “????”  
* Shitty’s like “the librarian is totally based on Bitty right?? Like it’s obvious”  
* Jack’s like “of course not! Evan is John’s love interest”  
* Shitty: “but John is def you but as a poet like?? and Evan’s in Eric’s exact position”  
* Jack: “but it’s a love story”  
* Shitty: “I know”  
* Jack: “Bitty’s my friend”  
* Shitty: “sure”  
* Jack: “just my friend”  
* Shitty: “than why is Evan so similar to Bitty”   
* Jack: “idk”  
* Shitty: “jfc”
> 
> = Profit


	8. Taking a Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “We’re not like that.”
> 
> They’re both silent for a moment before Lardo asks, “...But you want to be?”

Eric comes home from his evening at Jack’s with an insistent flutter in his stomach that’s getting harder to ignore every time he’s in Jack's presence. He tries – oh god does he try – but then Jack looks at Eric with that shy smile he kept hidden from him for so long and Eric feels like his belly and chest are filled with cotton; He’s starting to feel slightly overwhelmed by it. 

And he knows – boy does he know – that none of this is a good idea. Eric prides himself on being a professional, and falling hard and fast for a coworker is anything but, even when said coworker’s cheekbones could cut glass.

And his eyes….so blue Eric feels like he could cloud gaze in them whenever they make eye contact-

He’s getting off topic. 

Eric isn’t an idiot. He’s fully aware of how pathetic he’s being, how easily he lets Jack take over every other thought in his head; He's fully aware of how bad of an idea it is to even _consider_ the possibility of something ever happening between them.

But still, he unlocks the door to his apartment in a daze, sighing as he quietly steps inside and closes the door behind him. He lets himself lean on it, head tilting back against the wood, smiling at a crack in the ceiling as he whispers, “Oh Eric, what have you gotten yourself into?”

A throat clears, and Eric snaps out of his pining as his head smacks against the door in surprise. He rubs at the tender spot on his scalp. 

“Oops. Sorry, dude,” Lardo winces, turning on the lights in their living room/kitchen setup. “I was waiting for you to come home. Where were you, anyway?” 

It’s an innocent enough question, but when Lardo’s the one asking it, it feels like an interrogation, what with the quirk of her brow and the slight upturn of her lips. 

“Oh, just- At my usual meeting with Jack,” Eric answers, a little too high pitched for it to be casual. 

Lardo’s smirks, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “I thought your meeting was on Monday.”

Eric fails to sputter out a response, cheeks reddening as Lardo ignores his panic in favor of walking lazily to the kitchen and hopping up onto the counter. 

Of course, the kitchen, Eric and Larissa’s “Serious Conversation Corner”. Eric lets out a nervous breath and meets her there, busying himself with the dishes left to soak in the sink, pointedly not making eye contact with his roommate. 

“So,” She leans slightly into Eric’s space. “How long has this been a thing?”

Suddenly, Eric finds the piece of pasta stuck to the plate he’s scrubbing very intriguing. “What _thing_ are you referring to exactly?”

“You and Jack.”

He jerks, soapy water splashing across his forearms as he whips his head toward her. “What do you mean me and- He’s my partner- my _coworker_! We’re not-” He averts his gaze back to the sink. “We’re not like that.”

They’re both silent for a moment before Lardo asks, “...But you want to be?” 

Eric lets out a groan in defeat, turning off the faucet and drying his hands with a towel before meeting Lardo’s gaze. “Fine, yes! Of course I want to be!” He buries his face in his hands. “Is it that obvious?” 

“Not really,” Lardo answers. “I just know you.” 

He smiles a little at that. “Yeah. You do.”

“So, what are you gonna do about it?” 

“What am I-“ Eric pauses, eyes widening. “Lardo, I’m not- I shouldn’t- I can’t _tell _him!” 

“Why not?”

He laughs, a little hysterical. “Why _not_? Because we’re coworkers! It’s highly unprofessional-“

“Hasn’t stopped Shitty from shooting his shot every time I see him,” Lardo says, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, but he’s….Shitty. He doesn’t care about that kind of stuff.”

“And you do?”

“Yes! I love my job; I don’t want to make things uncomfortable between us. It could get in the way of our work.” Eric waves a hand around wildly.

Lardo gives him a questioning look. “Who says it would make things uncomfortable?” 

“I-“ He pauses. “Because, Jack….he doesn’t like me in that way. He can’t.”

“How are you so sure?” 

How is he _sure_? The first time he met Jack, he almost had the door slammed in his face! Every email sent to Eric’s inbox was laced with obvious annoyance at his very existence for _months _until Eric finally got Jack to see him as someone looking to help him instead of as a threat to his entire career. Sure, they’ve become something akin to friends in the last couple of months, but that doesn’t mean Jack has the same feelings for Eric that Eric has for him; He _can’t _feel the same way. He might not have a permanent scowl stuck to his face whenever Eric’s in his vicinity anymore and sometimes even smiles (god, that _smile_. He wishes he could find the words to describe it), but that just means that Jack is thankfully becoming more comfortable around him, not falling as much as Eric has. 

You don’t go from hating someone’s guts to being in love with them. This isn’t a fucking rom-com.

“Because I just am, ok?” Eric admits, shoulders slumping as he leans against the counter next to Lardo. 

Lardo shakes her head. “So, what? You’re just gonna keep working with him and bottle this up inside you until you die? Not gonna lie dude, that sounds like a shit plan.”

“Well, what else am I supposed to do?” He looks back at her, hoping his eyes aren’t as red as they feel.

“You could tell him.” 

Eric gapes. “Lardo, what did I _just _say? I _can’t _tell him! What if he doesn’t want to work with me anymore? I really don’t wanna have to find a new author.”

“Bits,” Lardo says, placing a hand on top of his where it’s resting between them. “Trust me, I know Jack. He’d never do something like that.”

“But-“

“No, seriously. You’re looking too much into this.” She squeezes his hand. “Jack isn’t the kind of guy to get uncomfortable over this sort of thing. Worst case scenario, he doesn’t feel the same way and you continue on as if nothing happened. At least you got it out there and maybe, later down the line, his feelings will change. You never know!” 

She moves to put an arm around his shoulders, pulling him in for an awkward side-hug. “You’re a catch, Bits; Anyone who doesn’t want you doesn’t deserve you.”

Eric smiles, wrapping an arm around her waist. “You know, I don’t think I deserve _you_.”

“Of course you do. You deserve a lot of things, you just gotta let yourself have them.”

He rests his head against the side of her chest and sighs. “I’m trying, I really am.”

“I know you are,” she says. “Which is why you’re going to tell him.”

Eric knows she’s right, that he can’t keep these feelings to himself and hope they just float away someday. If he and Jack are going to be working together from here on out, he’s going to have to lay everything out on the table. He wouldn’t be able to handle years of hiding his true feelings while just wondering if maybe they could be reciprocated. He had to send the first email; He’s going to have to make the first move.

They stay like that, awkwardly draped across each other on the kitchen counter until Eric yawns and they both decide to call it a night. As they make their way to their rooms, Eric hugs Lardo one last time.

“Thank you, just….for everything, really.”

Lardo rests her head against his chest and squeezes back. “You know I’ll always be here for you, bro. I love you.”

He lets her hair tickle his cheek slightly as he says, “I love you too.”

They separate after a few long seconds, saying their goodnights as they close their bedroom doors. Eric steps into his room and immediately falls face first into bed, letting his frustrated moan be muffled by his pillow. 

He’s going to tell Jack, he has to. 

He hopes doing so won’t ruin everything.

~~~~~~~~~~

The weekend seems to go by in a haze and Monday rolls around much sooner than Eric had anticipated. 

Today’s the day, his usual meeting with Jack, and hopefully not his last if everything goes according to plan.

A plan that he – in all honesty – doesn’t really have. Does bringing a Peace Offering Pie™️ and saying _“Hey I think I might be in love with you I hope that’s not a problem here’s a pie let’s eat it and forget this conversation ever happened”_ count as a strategy? 

Well, it’s too late to change that decision now because he’s currently walking up the front steps of the Haus, clutching his pie box like a lifeline and denting the corners in the process.

Is it bad that he’s sort of hoping Jack doesn’t show up? He’d have an excuse then, to not tell him, at least not now. _“Sorry, Lardo! I was totally gonna do it, but he wasn’t there. Maybe this is a sign that I shouldn’t tell him after all!”_

Yeah, that would never work. 

Releasing the tension in his fingers, Eric opens the door. 

“Jack? You here?” He calls out, hoping his nerves aren’t too obvious as he does so.

Instead of Jack, it’s Nursey that responds, walking in from the living room. “Hey, Bitty. Jack hasn’t come in today. Do you have a meeting?”

Eric lets himself breathe a sigh of relief that he doesn’t have to face Jack just yet. “Yeah, we do, but it’s fine. I can wait!” His smile feels way too wide to be sincere.

Nursey gives him a look, but thankfully doesn’t say anything about his uncomfortable demeanor. He simply says, “Chill,” and makes his way to the kitchen.

Following behind him, Eric’s immediately greeted by Chowder’s wide but completely sincere smile from his place at the kitchen table. “Bitty! What are you doing here? Is that pie?” He meets Eric in the doorway, reaching for the box in Eric’s hands.

Eric shields the box from Chowder’s grabby hands. “Nope, sorry! This pie is off-limits.” He sidesteps around him to place the box on the counter. “I made this for Jack, but I’ll make sure to bring extra for the whole crew next time!”

“Oh, ok! That’s so nice of you! What’s it for?”

Not having a real answer that wouldn’t result in some serious chirping, Eric says, “Oh, just as a little congratulations for finishing his first draft.” And totally not a bribery pie; Eric swears he’s done doing that. He just wants to….sweeten the atmosphere a bit before possibly ruining everything. 

Chowder nods in response, going back to his laptop, across from where Nursey has been watching them with an amused expression on his face. “Well, I’m sure Jack will love it!”

“I sure hope so!” Eric laughs, a little forcefully.

At least it’s one thing Jack will love. 

“Well,” Eric says, moving to pull some ingredients out of the pantry. “Have you two eaten yet? I can cook something up real quick!”

“Nah, we haven’t,” Nursey responds.

“If you don’t mind,” Chowder adds. “Thank you!”

“Yeah. Thanks, dude.”

Shaking his head at the two’s completely opposite energies, Eric gets to work, thankful for the distraction.

~~~~~~~~~~

After they’ve both finished eating, Nursey and Chowder excuse themselves to go work on their respective jobs, leaving Eric to procrastinate calling Jack by focusing on the dishes in the sink. 

Right as he’s practically elbow-deep in soapy water, a voice calls out from the entrance to the kitchen. “Yo, Bits! Didn’t realize you were around today.” 

Shitty comes to lean against the counter next to Eric, and Eric gets an odd sense of deja vu. Hopefully, this doesn’t also turn into an impromptu interrogation. 

“Yeah, I have my usual meeting with Jack, but we planned to have it here today instead of at his place,” Eric responds, scrubbing a plate a little too harshly. “Which reminds me, have you heard from Jack today? I guess I should give him a call….” 

The response Eric receives is not what he’s used to getting from Shitty. Eric finally looks back at him, and his expression makes Eric suddenly feel a bit uneasy. Shitty shifts his feet awkwardly, tapping an uneven rhythm against the countertop with his fingers before clearing his throat.

“Uh, yeah. Speaking of Jack….He- he, um, wanted me to tell you….” 

Eric’s not even sure he fully processes the words that come out of Shitty’s mouth, his voice echoing too loudly in his head to really believe it. He doesn’t really know how to respond, if he even can. 

So he doesn’t. 

“Sorry, I-“ Eric stutters out, mind moving a mile a minute. “I have to go.” 

He bolts, vaguely hearing the sound of Shitty calling out to him. “Bitty! Wait!” 

But he’s already out the door, soap still clinging to the hair on his forearms. 

He knew it; He knew this is what would happen. He knew it wasn’t a good idea, letting Jack in on his feelings….He knew it would ruin everything.

Eric had just expected _he’d_ be the one to pull the trigger, but he isn’t as subtle as he thought he was, apparently. 

At least now _he_ finally gets to be the one to tell Lardo _“I told you so.” _

This is the only time he isn’t happy about that fact; He really wishes she were right this time.

Eric runs all the way to his car. He drives home as fast as he can without speeding down the street. He runs up the three flights of stairs to their apartment, unlocks the door, and slumps back against it. His head still feels like he’s running out of the Haus, reading Shitty’s lips and bolting before he can even understand what’s happened. Before he realizes it, he’s crying, sobs releasing from his throat as he slides himself down to the floor, bringing his legs up to his chest and crying into his knees. Of course, Jack wouldn’t want to work with such a mess, someone who can’t keep his feelings in check, who can’t even keep up the facade of professionalism for the sake of the job.

This is what he gets, falling for a boy he can’t have; He had thought he’d learned this by now. 

Eric doesn’t even realize he’d left the pie in the fridge until he couldn’t care less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!! Sorry this fic's been on hiatus for 4 MONTHS I swear I didn't plan for that to happen :/ I was busy working on my fic for the Going Out With a Big Bang event (the link to it is below if you're interested) 
> 
> Also, you might have noticed that the chapter count for this fic has changed! I just realized while going back to my outline that some plot points needed to be added/split up, but I also wanted it to be a nice even number so I'm making the epilogue its own chapter as well! Hopefully the next update won't be more than a month from now at most, but I do have to start focusing on my Reverse Bang fic because I'm dumb and signed up for way too many events at once-
> 
> NEXT UP: "Jack wtf look what you've done," says Shitty, the only reasonable person in this fic besides Lardo


	9. Game Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jack needs to try to fix this, for his story’s sake as well as his own.

Jack has a feeling he’s done something wrong.

“Yeah, no shit, dude,” Shitty says, typing away at his computer as they sit at Jack’s dining table. Jack had just finished the newest chapter of the secret romance novel and asked Shitty if he’d come to look it over with him even with the release date for his sequel fast approaching. 

“Bits did _not _take it well. I think the look on his face before he left will haunt me for the rest of my life.” 

Wincing, Jack asks, “Was it really that bad?” 

“He forgot the pie on the way out.”

Damn. This is serious then. 

“I just don’t understand,” Jack stares at the drafted document in front of him before closing his laptop in defeat. “What else am I supposed to do?” 

“I don’t know, tell him you’re head over heels in love with him? That you wanna get married and have perfect babies together?” 

“You know I can’t do that, Shits.”

“No, actually, I don’t know,” Shitty crosses his arms and leans dangerously far back in his chair. “I don’t get why you can’t just tell him how you feel.”

“It’s—” Jack sighs, “It’s complicated.”

“How so?”

He rests his chin against his hand, gaze fixed toward the space between their laptops. “It’s just— I don’t want to make things weird. I’m too afraid to tell him, but I can’t keep him as my editor without fighting those feelings every time I’m around him.” 

“Then _don’t_ fight them, brah. Why should you?” 

“I don’t know, it just seems….unprofessional. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

Shitty lets out a sharp laugh. “Well, I think you’ve already passed that stage and gone straight to rejection. Seriously, dude looked absolutely broken.” 

“Shit….” Jack covers his face with one hand. “I didn’t want to hurt him, I don’t know— I guess I wanted to stop the chance of getting hurt myself.”

Shitty gives Jack’s shoulder a comforting squeeze from across the table. “I get it, man. Telling somehow how you feel is fucking terrifying, but keeping it inside is just gonna end up hurting you both.” He pauses. “I think it’s kind of already starting to.”

“I know. I’ll— I’ll talk to him soon. I don’t know if I’ll tell him everything, but….I can at least apologize.”

Shitty beams, patting Jack’s cheek before moving his attention back to his computer and beginning his work yet again. “You better, Jacky-boy. I don’t think I can handle a Bitty that isn’t radiating sunshine out of his ass every minute of the day.”

“Yeah,” Jack smiles, returning to the words waiting for him on his screen. “Me neither.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack waits a whole week before going over to the Haus. Shitty suggested he give Bitty more time to process everything so Jack would have a better chance at getting through to him without it blowing up in his face and with all the meetings he’s been having in the past week as he gears up for his book tour, he hasn’t had much time to think about Bitty at all. 

Well, that’s a lie; Jack’s been thinking about Bitty constantly, so much so that it’s made it almost impossible for him to continue writing his secret novel. After Shitty had lifted the veil and made him see just how oblivious he was, Jack has realized that Bitty is practically the entire inspiration for every word he types out for this new story. It wouldn’t even exist without him and now that Bitty isn’t occupying the space in Jack’s life that he had made himself so comfortable in, all of Jack’s creative spark left along with him.

So he needs to try to fix this, for his story’s sake as well as his own.

Jack arrives at the Haus buzzing with anxiety, but he tries to tune it out as best he can as he peeks his head into the living room to see Lardo lounging on the couch, Photoshop open on her laptop which is situated precariously on her lap.

She turns her attention towards Jack, “Hey, man. Didn’t know you were coming in today.” 

“Yeah, euh…” He puts his hands in his pockets to try and stop his fidgeting, “Is Bitty around?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s in a meeting, but I think he’ll be wrapping up soon.” Lardo nods towards the staircase, then turns her gaze back to whatever design she’s working on.

“Meeting? With who?”

Just then, two sets of footsteps catch Jack’s attention and he looks towards the staircase to see Nursey making his way downstairs with Bitty close behind.

“So I’ll make some changes to those two pieces and email the new drafts to you in a few days, does that work?” Nursey asks.

Bitty smiles, and it’s so warm and genuine and damn— Jack didn’t realize how much he’d missed it until now. “Of course, hun! Sounds like a plan.”

“Chill,” Nursey replies. He makes his way to the door and says as passed by, “Hey, Jack.”

Jack replies, “Hey, Derek.” He pauses before asking, “What were you and Eric talking about?” 

“Oh, we were just going over the edits he made to my latest poems for the collection I’m publishing in the fall. He made some really good suggestions that I didn’t even think about.”

_That’s because he’s amazing at his job_, Jack thinks, and once again he feels a pang of guilt for letting that go. 

When Jack doesn’t respond, Nursey says, “Well, I better go work on these edits. Good luck with your release, man.” 

“Thanks, Nurse,” Jack replies as Nursey makes his way out of the Haus. 

Jack takes a second to breathe before turning to see Bitty at the base of the stairs, a noticeable shift in his mood as he crosses his arms over his chest and says, “Hello, Mr. Zimmermann.”

Trying hard not to choke on his words, Jack responds, “Hi, um….can we talk?” 

Uncrossing his arms, Eric pauses, giving Jack a once over before gesturing to the kitchen. “Lead the way.”

Jack does exactly that, not missing the fact that Bitty closes the kitchen door behind them once they're inside, leaning against it instead of coming to sit across from Jack at the dining table. 

When Bitty isn’t the first one to talk, Jack takes matters into his own hands, “So, are you….Nursey’s editor now?” He knows it’s none of his business, but he’s just curious (and a tad regretful). 

Bitty crosses his arms again, something Jack doesn’t remember seeing him do very often in the past; it makes him look so closed off. “Well, I had to find _someone _to work with when my original partner fell through.”

_Crisse_, Jack really pissed him off. He doesn’t blame him, but still; the blunt response definitely stings. 

“I just...I wanted to talk to you about what happened. I know that I—”

“Look, Jack. I’m really busy and I’m technically supposed to be working while I’m here, not listening to whatever explanation you’re wanting to give which, frankly, I don’t really wanna hear right now.” He looks away before meeting Jack’s gaze once again, a look of annoyance in his eyes that Jack has never seen on him before. 

“If you really need to talk, just email me. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get back to work.” 

And then he’s gone, the door to the kitchen not quite slammed behind him, but close. Jack feels like he’s been glued to his chair and he has to take at least a dozen deep breaths – in for four, hold for six, out for five – before he can even start to stand up and walk quietly out the front door, making sure not to disturb Lardo in fear that she’ll confront him over why Bitty is so ticked off and why Jack looks like he’s about to hyperventilate. 

He should’ve known that looking directly at the sun would end up getting him burned.

~~~~~~~~~~

“I seriously fucked up, Shitty.” 

“Damn, dude. It sure seems like it.”

Jack groans, holding his head in his hands as Shitty sips at his coffee from across the cafe table. He had called Shitty immediately after leaving the Haus and told him to meet him here, hoping the atmosphere would help calm him even slightly; he isn’t sure that it’s working, but the food doesn’t hurt.

“So, when are you gonna try again?” Shitty asks.

“Try what?”

“....Talking to him?”

“I— I want to, definitely, but I’m starting the book tour in less than a week and I don’t know if I’ll even have the chance to.” Jack looks up at the ceiling, focusing on the tiny cracks in the paint to ground himself. “Besides, I don’t think he’ll even give me the time of day unless he’s forced to.” 

Jack looks back to see Shitty staring at him with a look that can only mean he’s thought of something so genius it’ll fix everything, or something so goddamn stupid it’ll make things somehow even worse. It’s a gamble every time.

“Jack, my beautiful lotus flower, you just gave me an amazing idea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said that this update would only take a month but I am a liar who should never be taken seriously ever- and then of course it only took like 2 hours to write on my phone cause for some reason I've written the last 12k words of different fics on the google drives app cause I'm lazy
> 
> At least I sort of had any excuse?? I'm currently in a production of Romeo and Juliet which is gonna be performed fully on Zoom (we livestream next week,,R and J are both girls in our version so it's GAY and I get virtually stabbed it's great) and last week I went to a special effects makeup camp in LA and got to visit my brother while creating a bunch of different monsters and injuries (I turned him into a knockoff Prince Zuku cause I learned how to make burn scars-)
> 
> ANYWAY next chapter hopefully won't be forever from now; I literally started writing this a whole year ago and still somehow haven't finished it even though I wrote another fic that's even longer in less than 2 months,,,,but I WILL finish this if it's the last thing I do- I guess I'm just not as passionate about the AU as the other ones I've been writing idk
> 
> NEXT UP: Shitty's plan is put into action and things get heated-


	10. Mixed Signals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No matter how hurt he is, Eric can’t help but still harbor feelings that he just can’t seem to shake.

“Hey, Bits….” Shitty says as he slides next to where Eric is busy frosting a batch of rainbow cookies at the counter. “I was wondering...if you could do me a _huge _favor….” 

Not looking up from the cookie he’s currently adding the last stripe of color to, Eric asks, “What do you need?”

“Well,” Shitty pauses to scratch nervously at his mustache. “I need you to go with Jack to his book signing.”

Eric jumps at that, accidentally painting the entire cookie in a streak of purple frosting. He puts down the frosting bag and gives Shitty an unamused look. “I thought you were supposed to go with him to that. You _are _his editor, right?” 

He doesn’t think he imagines the audible wince Shitty makes at that. “I mean, yeah. I was going to go, don’t get me wrong, but something important came up with my other author and now I need someone to cover for me.” He shrugs, gesturing to Eric. “And, you know...You worked on most of the book with him, I thought it would make sense to ask you.” 

Picking up the red frosting bag and moving onto the next cookie, Eric says, “Jack’s a big boy, why can’t he just go by himself?”

“He _can_, but this is the first time he’s felt comfortable enough to even do an in-person event what with the whole ‘dad is a famous author’ thing, and even though he’s only going to a few towns, I promised him he at least wouldn’t be alone for the first one. Then he’s on his own for the rest of the week.” 

Eric doesn’t respond for several seconds while he finishes the entire rainbow. He can feel Shitty practically vibrating with nerves from his place beside him. Shitty has been acting so oddly around Eric lately, like he’s been walking on eggshells ever since Eric abruptly ran away from him almost a month ago. This last week though, he’s been slowly easing his way back into Eric’s space, and with this new knowledge that Jack’s book tour is fast approaching, Eric can’t say he’s surprised. 

And Eric definitely doesn’t _want _to say yes, but he knows just how persistent Shitty can be; he’ll most likely be worn down no matter how insistent he is that it’s not a good idea. But in all honesty, he _wants _to talk to Jack. He’s wanted to ever since the initial pain of being practically fired faded away, but then it was immediately replaced with anger and Eric wanted nothing more than to ignore Jack. Now though, he knows it isn’t healthy to keep avoiding him. No matter how hurt he is, Eric can’t help but still harbor feelings that he just can’t seem to shake. 

Maybe if he can’t patch up their friendship, he can at least get some closure. 

“Fine,” Eric sighs, and Shitty goes to fist pump the air, but Eric stops him by pointing the tip of his frosting bag at him. “But! _You’re_ paying for next week’s company grocery run.”

Shitty pumps _both_ fists in the air and says, “Totally, brah! I owe you at _least_ five bags of flour for doing this for me!” He pats Eric enthusiastically on the shoulder. “Just head over to his place on Saturday and a car will be there to pick you guys up.”

“How is Jack planning on doing this without revealing who he is, anyway? It’s pretty hard to keep your identity a secret when you’re standing only three feet from someone….”

“Oh, Don’t worry about that, Bits! Jack’s got the perfect disguise planned, no one will suspect a thing.” Shitty pulls him into a quick and crushing hug before snatching the cookie Eric had ruined from the counter and breaking half of it off into his mouth before Eric has time to protest. “I gotta head to Jack’s so we can finalize everything. Thanks again, Bits! I promise it’ll be fun!”

And with that, Shitty is out the kitchen door before Eric can even so much as say goodbye. Well, there’s no turning back now. 

He goes back to frosting the rest of the batch and tries to ignore the voice in his head telling him this is a bad idea. It’s Pride Month, and not even a stupid boy is going to stop him from celebrating with baked goods. 

~~~~~~~~~~

When Eric knocks on Jack’s door on Saturday morning, the answer is immediate. Jack opens the door with a misplaced amount of nervous energy that Eric has never seen him exhibit, eyes wide behind a pair of wire frames. He has a black baseball cap covering all but one tuft of dark brown hair. 

“So, this is what Shitty meant by a ‘perfect disguise’?” 

Jack adjusts his glasses with noticeably shaky hands and says, “I rarely get recognized in person anymore, not since I was a kid and my dad was still playing...But, better to be safe than sorry, eh?” 

Eric resists the urge to smile at that; despite the anger he still holds for him, Jack’s endearing sort of dorkiness is hard to ignore. “Sure. Well, we better get going. Don’t want to keep the Uber waiting too long.”

“Yeah, of course!” Jack says, closing and locking the door behind him before gesturing to the elevator. “Um, after you.” 

The elevator ride is a silent and agonizing affair. This, Eric hopes, is not a sign of how the rest of the day will play out. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Once they arrive at the bookstore - which just so happens to be the one that Eric frequented often while in college - they’re quickly taken through the logistics of how the next two hours will go by the extremely welcoming manager. Jack will introduce himself and the book, read the first chapter aloud for about thirty minutes, take another thirty minutes answering audience questions, and then use the whole last hour to sign copies and talk one on one with his readers. Throughout the conversation, Eric is surprised when he looks over at Jack and notices that he’s not as overwhelmed as Eric thought he would be; Well, at least not visibly so. He looks determined, almost, to make this event go smoothly. If not for himself, then at least for his readers. 

Jack hasn’t said a word to Eric since they arrived, only glancing in his direction every so often and snapping his eyes away whenever Eric catches him. The look on his face is something Eric can’t quite seem to place; awkward, definitely, but also a little sad. 

Eric can’t help but think to himself, _“Well, Jack, who got us into this mess in the first place?” _but then he catches the shy smile that pulls subtly at the corners of Jack’s mouth and then disappears just as fast and Eric feels his emotions mix into an odd jumble of hope, confusion, and annoyance at just how hard it is for him to pinpoint exactly what Jack is meaning to accomplish here. Did Shitty convince Eric to come because Jack wanted him to, or is he just as uncomfortable and doesn’t know how to handle this awkward situation they’ve found themselves in after weeks of not talking?

Well, no matter what’s going on in Jack’s mind, he does a good job of not showing it, nodding in understanding at the manager and looking to the front of the little makeshift audience space they’ve created in the store where a podium stands for Jack to read at. The chairs are empty and the manager leaves them be to open the doors for the decent crowd that Jack has been able to conjure up. 

“So, do you want to sit up front or….?” Jack asks, and Eric definitely doesn’t jump in surprise at it being the first thing Jack has said to him in the last hour. 

Eric, cautious and absolutely not afraid to be a little bit petty, says, “I think I’ll stay in the back, thanks.” 

He tries not to overanalyze the disappointment that crosses Jack’s face at that. Instead, he simply watches as Jack calmly makes his way to the podium. 

The seats fill up fast, most likely due to the fact that the store had advertised this event as one of many in their Pride Month lineup. It’s honestly very sweet, and Eric can tell even from a distance that Jack was not expecting such a great turnout. Even so, he jumps right in. 

“Hello, I’m Jackson Laurent, author of _Is This The End, _and I am very happy to finally share its sequel, _This is Not The End_, with all of you.” He opens the copy in front of him. “I’ll be reading the first chapter to you if that sounds alright. But first, I’d like to start off with the dedication.” He looks down at the page and begins to say, “For all of my readers…” 

Standing behind the crowd, arms crossed and leaning against the back wall, Eric looks at Jack and can’t help but be proud. He helped this story come to life, after all, and even though he couldn’t see it through to the end, it still holds a special place in his heart.

But then, Jack’s eyes find his from across the room and his gaze doesn’t break as he reads, “Without your support, I would’ve never had the courage to write these words and share them with the world.” 

_“Oh, _hell _no,” _Eric thinks. Is Jack trying to kill him? Was this his plan all along? It just doesn’t make any _sense. _He could handle being let go, but why would Jack send such mixed signals after the fact? If he really saw Eric as such a huge part of his creative journey, then how could he just drop him like it was nothing? And then have the nerve to act as if nothing happened? No, Eric isn’t dumb; he’s not going to let Jack string him along like this. He’s going to get through today and never work with him again after this. It’ll hurt, yes, because even after all the hurt and confusion, Eric still can’t erase the feelings he holds...but _god, _does he wish he could. 

For now, he looks anywhere but Jack’s direction and tries not to lose his mind. Despite his brain trying to block out the sound, Jack’s voice breaks through the barrier. 

“Chapter 1; ‘_There were so many things I couldn’t say; So many things I couldn’t tell _anyone_, despite how much I wanted to….’”_

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack is so nervous he feels like he might throw up.

Surprisingly though, the churning he feels in his gut is not a result of seeing the number of impressionable readers lining up in front of him for an hour of face to face social interactions (which, to be fair, still isn’t Jack’s favorite scenario). Instead, his stomach flutters at Bitty’s presence right behind and to the left of him as he begins signing copies in an attempt to distract himself from the awkward tension that’s been building up between them all day. 

Shitty had insisted that this was a good plan, that the only way to get Jack to actually talk to Eric was to force them to interact. Now, Jack thinks Shitty might not have thought this whole thing through, because it’s a little hard to have a conversation when you’re in the middle of an event focused solely on you; Eric’s tense behavior around him also isn’t helping to ease the situation. 

And he _wants _to talk to Bitty, more than anything. Jack knows he needs to fix his complete and utter fuck-up, no matter how much he hates the idea of confrontation. He was so completely distracted by Eric’s presence while reading that he wasn’t sure he’d be able to finish; that’s how he knows that he needs to suck it up and _do _something. 

No point in worrying now, though, because right now he needs to do his job and sign all these goddamn books. 

Thirty minutes into the signing, Jack rolls his wrist to prevent it from cramping as the next person in line comes to stand in front of him. The kid is young, probably a teenager, and Jack notices the rainbow bracelet they’re wearing as they hand him the book that he’s honestly getting a little tired of seeing at this point.

“Who should I make it out to?” Jack asks, opening to the front of the book.

“Murphy,” the kid replies, nervously fiddling with their bracelet. “Um….I just wanted to say thanks for, you know...writing this. It was amazing to see people like me being able to find happiness even back then.”

Jack can’t help but smile at that, thinking about just how close he was to not writing what is so important to not just those who read it, but to himself as well. “People like us have existed throughout history, so I wanted to show exactly that. I’m so glad it meant a lot to you just like it meant a lot to me while writing it.” He hands the book back to the kid, Murphy, who hugs it to his chest. 

“What was your inspiration?” Murphy asks. 

This takes Jack by surprise. Still, he’s able to find his answer pretty easily as he’s reminded of the man standing right behind him. “Well, I wasn’t going to write it at first. I guess I was pretty afraid of the idea for a while, but someone made me realize I was too adamant on sticking to what was comfortable, that I should try leaving that comfort zone and seeing what else was out there.” He leans in slightly, voice turning to a mock whisper as he says, “And between you and me, I think it really paid off.”

Murphy’s laugh is cut off by a frustrated sound coming from behind Jack, almost so quiet that only Jack can really hear it.

Turning his head around, he catches sight of Eric, his arms crossed tightly in front of him as he retreats to somewhere in the back of the store. 

Jack turns back to the kid and gives them an apologetic look as he stands up from his spot at the table and says, “Excuse me for a moment.” He nods to the employee who’s overseeing the crowd before quickly making his way to where Eric has disappeared to. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack finds Eric pacing quietly between two bookshelves, gaze fixed to the ground. 

“Bittle,” Jack whispers, and Eric’s eyes shoot up to meet his. “What’s up?” 

Eric scoffs. “What’s _up_? I should be asking _you _that.” He looks away for a moment, then sighs as he asks, “Jack, why am I here?” 

“Because Shitty asked you to come?” 

“Oh, really? Did Shitty want me to come, or did _you_?” 

Jack is taken aback by that. In all honesty, it _was _Shitty’s idea to get Bitty to come to this event with him, but Jack certainly didn’t do anything to stop him; maybe because he knew deep down he’d try anything to get Bitty to talk to him. Now, Jack thinks Shitty might not have thought this through enough.

“Bitty, I-“

“No,” Eric stops him, hand coming up between them. “You made Shitty do all the talking for you already. Right now, I just want you to listen, ok?”

Jack can’t do anything but nod in response as Eric takes one step closer to him, voice hushed and slightly strained and eyes fixed on Jack’s chest.

“You know, when Shitty put me on as your editor, I thought I had the worst luck. You treated me like garbage, but you know what?” He pauses, and Jack wonders for a moment if he’s supposed to have an answer before he continues. “That didn’t stop me from working with you because I _love_ my job and _nothing_ was going to get in the way of that.

“I knew it would be difficult, but I kept working with you despite all that. Then you got better and you started to open up more and it seemed like you were finally letting me in, so I let myself get closer to you and–” 

Eric finally looks up at him then, eyes glistening slightly under the warm bookstore lighting, and Jack knows he can’t look away even if he wanted to.

“I was _so glad _I didn’t give up on you….but I guess you gave up on me.” 

“Bitty, what do you mean–” Jack raises his hand to place it on Eric’s shoulder, but Eric shrugs it off, tearing his gaze away and back to the scuffed hardwood floor. 

“I think you know. And I don’t know if you’re meaning to, but you’re sending me a lot of mixed signals and I just don’t wanna hear any of it anymore.” Eric shoulders past him and without even sparing another glance in Jack’s direction, says, “Goodbye, Jack. I hope the rest of the tour goes well for you.”

And just like that, Eric makes his way through the small crowd and out the door. For a moment, Jack thinks about running after him, but he knows that’s unrealistic. He has a line of people waiting to meet him and a book that needs to be promoted; a book that wouldn’t have even existed without Eric in the first place.

So he plasters on a smile and goes back to signing copy after copy, letting the routine take his mind off of how badly he’s ruined a friendship so important to him.

Jack’s not even sure he can blame Shitty for this one either. No, this is all on him.

For a guy who moves people to tears with his writing, he can’t ever seem to find the right words when he needs them most. 

~~~~~~~~~~

“Ok, I admit that I probably didn’t think this through well enough,” Shitty says through the speakers of Jack’s phone. 

“_Probably_?” Jack responds, zipping up his suitcase and setting it in the corner of the room. 

He had left the event an hour earlier and had been spending his time packing for his five day trip across Massachusetts and surrounding states when Shitty had called him wondering how it had all gone. Jack isn’t one to cherry coat, so he had told him the truth: that it was an absolute disaster and he wouldn’t be surprised if Eric never spoke to him ever again. So much for Shitty saving the day.

Shitty sighs, and Jack can practically picture him running a stressful hand through his hair. “I’m really sorry, dude. I seriously thought that it would work.”

“It isn’t your fault, Shits…” He pauses. “Ok, maybe it is a little bit, but_ I_ definitely didn’t help the situation either.” 

Huffing a laugh, Shitty goes silent for several seconds, giving time for Jack to open up his laptop and boot it up. 

“So….What are you gonna do about it now?”

“About Bitty?” Jack opens his writing software, subconsciously navigating to his ‘secret manuscript’ that he hasn’t been able to make barely any progress on since he and Eric stopped talking. “I’m not sure there’s anything _to _do, at this point.”

“What? Are you just giving up on him now?” Shitty asks.

Scrolling to where he last left off, he finds himself reading through the end of the last chapter, the one he had written right after Shitty had made him first realize that what he felt for Bitty was more than just platonic:

[[ _As he leafs through the pages of his notebook, there’s one common theme that seems to bleed through the paper, spilling out onto every one proceeding it. It isn’t obvious, not to anyone who doesn’t know him personally, but John can see the man behind every word he has written down in the past three months whether he wants to or not. _

Evan_. Each and every word is screaming his name, loud and desperate as if the words themselves were yearning for a glimpse of his smile. And they _are_, John _is_; yearning, every single waking moment. Every time he picks up a pen, he yells it from the rooftops, from his cramped apartment, from his seat at the cafe, Evan right across from him. A mere few feet away and John’s surprised Evan can’t hear it, because it’s so loud he can’t pay attention to anything else. It’s all-encompassing, and John could write hundreds of pages about how Evan makes him feel like he can’t speak, only scream from inside his leather-bound book. _

_John hadn’t been searching for a muse. He simply hoped that something could bring him to start putting pen to paper again, unclog the part of his brain that had stopped any forms of inspiration from spilling out onto the page. That’s all he had been looking for; nothing more, nothing less._

_How could he have seen it coming, a life changing course between library shelves? _]]

He mentally kicks himself for being so oblivious, too focused on shielding himself to see that with Eric, he didn’t need to. Bitty makes Jack feel like John, unexpectedly falling, but doing absolutely nothing to stop it because why would he want to?

As if Jack could ever give up on him now. 

The problem is that he’s afraid Eric may have given up on him, and rightfully so. 

“Of course not, I just- I don’t know what to do.” Jack rests his forehead in his hand, holding his phone with the other. He peeks at the laptop screen through his fingers. “And there’s no way I can ever finish the manuscript now, not with everything the way it is. It just….wouldn’t feel right.”

Shitty makes an audible gasp. “Zimmermann, you just gave me a wonderful idea.” 

“Your last ‘wonderful idea’ got us into this mess in the first place,” Jack says. “Why should I trust you this time?”

Jack listens to him rummaging through drawers and swearing under his breath for several seconds before he hears a triumphant “aha!” a slight distance away. 

Shitty picks his phone back up again and Jack can hear the determination in his voice as he says, “Jack, love of my life, I think I know how we can fix this.”

“….How?” 

“I can’t tell you that just yet. But Jack, you gotta trust me, ok?”

Jack sits up slightly in his chair at that. It’ll be hard - he can feel the anxiety simmering at the pit of his stomach - but honestly, what does Jack have left to lose?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a whole month to crank out this chapter cause even though I had it all planned out, I realized there were a few inconsistencies that needed to be fixed and it made me not even wanna try starting it,,,,,but here we are! One more chapter + an epilogue to go! I'm hoping to get the rest of this written soon, but I'm taking college English this semester so it might be a while till I have the energy to write anything other than boring essays.....
> 
> Next up: Shitty enacts his final plan to get these idiots to kiss and make up already (with some helpful nudging from Lardo)-


	11. Eye Opener

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In all honesty, Eric is tired of it. After the disaster that was that book signing, he couldn’t care less about reading whatever Shitty thinks could mend his and Jack’s relationship. 
> 
> And yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: I added a new scene to the end of chapter 10, so I'd suggest going back to read that before starting this one!! I just realized it made more sense being at the end of the last chapter than at the beginning of this one so....yeah ;w;

Eric has been searching for distractions the entire week, doing anything he can to take his mind off of Jack. 

Jack, who’s been gone on his tour for the last four days and is scheduled to come home tonight. Wanting to get the most out of a Jack-free Haus, Eric has spent most if not all of his time there, letting his work stop him from spiraling. 

And he’s certainly had enough to focus on, what with Nursey pumping out poem after poem without much coercing on Eric’s part. Though he’s not much of a fan of poetry, reading what’s going on in the mind of Derek Nurse has sure been interesting, and a complete change of pace from editing for Jack. 

[[_Your mouth is a flame_

_ Fire red_

_ Spitting heat from your lips_

_ I want to be burned again _

_ Scars from your tongue _

_ One bite_

_ Soothed by your laugh_

_ Turning screams into songs_

_ I hate you, but I want you_

_ Especially when it hurts _]]

Eric can’t help but think that this one is about a certain redhead (like all the other ones, actually). It’s not his place to ask either way though, and he doesn’t really have a leg to stand on either; if he had the creativity, he probably would’ve written some Taylor Swift level heartbreak ballads by now. 

And here he thought that work would _stop _him from thinking about Jack Zimmermann. 

Checking his phone and seeing that it’s almost eight o’clock, Eric starts filing his paperwork and stashing the copies of Nursey’s manuscript away into his backpack. 

He’s startled slightly by a quiet knocking on his door, which is cracked open just a touch. He can see a familiar mustache peeking through the small opening. 

Eric sighs and rolls his eyes. “What do you want, Shitty?”

“Can we talk?” Shitty asks, opening the door a little more and poking his head in.

“I’m just about to head out for the day, so-”

“It won’t take long, I promise. Just….Hear me out.”

His face is pleading, yet soft, and Eric can’t help but let his guard down around Shitty Knight. 

“Fine,” Eric says, and Shitty’s eyes light up instantly. “But make it quick.” 

“Totally!” He steps fully into the office, and Eric can feel eyes on the back of his head as he returns to tidying up his desk. “First off, I’m sorry for making you go to that event.”

“You should be.”

“It was a stupid idea-” 

“It was.”

“And I shouldn’t have put so much pressure on you to go along with it.” Shitty takes a deep breath before adding, “But I don’t regret trying.”

Eric pauses his cleaning to look at Shitty. “Trying...?”

“To fix things.”

“Oh,” He looks back down at the stack of poems in his hands. “Well, it didn’t. Fix things, that is. In all honesty, I think it made things worse.” He picks up his backpack and begins storing the papers into folders. 

Taking a step closer, Shitty holds out his hand, a small black hard-drive resting in his palm.

Looking back, Eric asks, “What’s that?”

Instead of answering, Shitty moves to the edge of his desk, setting the hard-drive at the edge of it, right next to Eric’s backpack. He leans his hip against the wood. “Jack’s a….complicated person. I think you know that better than anyone by now.”

Eric huffs out a laugh, but Shitty continues, “He’s guarded, has been practically all his life. Sometimes he doesn’t really know how _not _to be, even when he wants to.”

The funny thing is, Jack _had _let his guard down, at least for a while. Eric had felt like he might have been closer to peeling back every single layer one by one and finally reaching Jack’s core, whatever it may be, but suddenly all those walls that Eric had managed to tear down were built right back up in the blink of an eye; he didn’t even get a chance to know _why _before he was locked out. 

“It’s like his brain can’t help but protect him, even when there’s nothing that _needs _protecting. It usually ends in him making some dumb decisions, and this was definitely one of those times.”

Eric can’t help but laugh again at that. Shitty’s hitting the nail right on the head, but Eric still doesn’t understand what he’s trying to accomplish here. 

“What are you saying, Shitty?” He asks, zipping up his backpack and hooking it over his shoulder. 

Straightening back up, Shitty says, “I’m _saying_ that you should read that.” He points to the hard-drive at the edge of the desk. “If anything, it’ll answer some questions.” 

Furrowing his brow slightly, Eric replies, “And what if I don’t want to? What then?”

“Then you don’t read it, and things will stay how they are.” Shitty rests his hands in his pockets and starts making his way out the door. “Your choice, bro.”

Eric’s eyes wander to the hard-drive and his gaze stays on it as he says, “Bye, Shitty.”

With his back to Eric, Shitty waves a hand as he walks out the door. “See ya, Bits. Have a nice night.”

The door shuts behind him, and Eric takes a few deep breaths to steel himself. He hikes his backpack higher up on his shoulder and heads for the door. 

With his hand on the doorknob, Eric can’t help but look back at the thing on his desk. He pauses for a moment before quickly making his way across the room and snatching the hard-drive up in one hand. Before he can second guess himself, he stuffs it in his pants pocket and finally leaves his office and the Haus to get to his car. 

Considering how small it is, Eric can feel the weight of it against his thigh and in his head the entire way home. Why did he take it? It’s not like he’s actually going to read it.

~~~~~~~~~~

He’s _not _going to read it. At least that’s what Eric’s been telling himself for the past two hours. It’s ten at night and he’s laying in bed on his phone, trying hard not to look in the direction of his laptop – the hard-drive resting right next to it – and failing. 

Why _should _he read it anyway? It’s not like anything Shitty’s done to meddle with the whole situation up to this point has done anything to fix it. In all honesty, Eric is tired of it. After the disaster that was that book signing, he couldn’t care less about reading whatever Shitty thinks could mend his and Jack’s relationship. 

And yet. 

After Eric finds himself glancing at the stupid thing one more time, he gets up from his bed with a groan. He can’t stand to be in his room any longer; he needs to get his mind off of everything.

Baking always does the trick. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later and Eric is surrounded by a dozen cupcakes, two dozen peanut butter cookies, and one maple-crusted apple pie (he tries not to think too hard about that one). He sighs, taking one cupcake and leaving the rest out for Lardo to find when she gets home before making his way back to his room to scroll through Twitter until he falls asleep. 

An hour later, at half past eleven, Eric is still awake, having moved over to Instagram when Twitter had gotten boring. He hears the sound of the apartment door opening and closing. A few minutes later he gets a knock on his door. It opens before he can answer.

“Honey, I’m home,” Lardo says, dripping with a tired sarcasm. 

Eric looks in her direction before bringing his gaze back to his phone screen, barely absorbing the images he scrolls past. “You were out late.”

Lardo laughs, “What are you, my mom?” She leans against the door frame. “I was at the Haus with Shitty. Work stuff.”

“Yeah, _work stuff_,” Eric rolls his eyes with a sly smile. 

“Oh, shut it.” Eric looks over to see a slight blush on her cheeks. “_You’re _one to talk. Don’t think I didn’t see the hoard of baked goods in the kitchen.” She raises the half eaten cookie in her hand. “Not that I’m complaining but….you alright, bro?”

Of course Lardo could tell that something was wrong; he’s an avid baker, yes, but he doesn’t bake _that _much unless there’s something he’s trying to avoid. 

Eric covers his face with his pillow and lets out a muffled groan. 

“That bad, huh?”

He doesn’t respond, instead pointing in the general direction of his desk. 

He hears Lardo take a few steps to stand in front of it, going silent for a moment before asking, “This?” 

He removes the pillow from his face just enough to peak over at her. She holds the hard-drive up with one hand and takes a bite of her cookie with the other. He doesn’t answer, just stares daggers at the stupid thing in her hand. 

“What’s on it?”

He hugs the pillow against his chest. “I don’t know.”

“Then why do you-”

“Shitty gave it to me.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, _oh_.” 

Rotating the drive between her fingers, Lardo asks, “Do you have any idea what it _could _be?”

“No, he just said it might ‘answer some questions’,” he replies, doing air quotes with one hand. “Whatever the hell _that _means.”

“Answers to what-” Her eyes widen. “Oh, Jack.”

Eric covers his face with his pillow again and screams into it. 

Suddenly, Lardo rips the pillow from his hands and lets it drop to the ground. She hovers over him as she asks, “Bits, seriously, what’s up?”

Laying flat on his back with his hands over his eyes, Eric says, “I don’t _know, _that’s the problem!”

“I get it, man, I do. Jack really fucked up big time, and I think he knows that.”

“Does he? I just don’t understand why he-” He feels his throat tighten and his eyes begin to sting. “Things were going so well….If he knows what he did was….why’d he do it in the _first place_?”

Lardo joins him on the bed at that, wrapping an arm around his shoulder and guiding his face to the crook of her neck. She runs her fingers through his hair and just lets him cry.

“This is so stupid I- It’s just work, I don’t know why I’m- I’m making such a big deal out of-”

“It’s not stupid,” Lardo says, her voice calming and quiet. “You were friends. And you’re in love with him, of course it hurt.”

Eric’s crying stops abruptly. Love? Was he in love with Jack? _Is _he in love with Jack? He definitely has feelings for him – no matter how angry he is at being dropped like a sack of flour – but _love_? 

He thinks of all those meetings at Jack’s place, how he had looked forward to them more and more as Jack slowly got more comfortable with being around him. How he’d catch himself glancing every so often at the frown on Jack’s face as he wrote, wondering why he found it so endearing. How he’d dragged Jack to the cafe way more often than necessary just to see that frown relax as he browsed their bookshelf. How devastated he’d felt when Shitty said he’d be taking Eric’s position as Jack’s editor, crying himself to sleep that night. How he had to make himself look away as Jack read to the audience at the bookstore. How walking out had felt like he was losing a limb, the look on Jack’s face before he’d left making him feel like he couldn’t breathe.

If that’s what love is, Eric doesn’t know if he should be relieved or terrified. 

He gasps, removing his face from Lardo’s neck to look her in the eyes, his own wide and glistening with tears. 

“I’m in love with Jack.”

Terrified. Eric is terrified.

“Oh god, I’m in love with Jack!”

Lardo’s eyes grow as wide as his as she says, “I seriously thought you knew that already, Bits.”

“I didn’t- I knew I _liked _him, but _love_?” He sits up, head in his hands. ‘God, I’m such an idiot.”

Coming to sit beside him, Lardo rubs at his back with one hand, the other moving in front of him. She opens her hand to reveal the hard-drive resting in her palm. “I think you should read it.”

Looking down at it, Eric sighs. “I don’t want to.”

“Don’t _want _to, or too _scared _to?”

Damn, she’s good.

“Too scared.”

Lardo drops the hard-drive in his lap before standing. “Look, I get it. This whole thing has been really frustrating, and drawing it out more is probably not what you want right now.” She rests a hand on his shoulder. “But I know Jack, and I know that he’s probably just as miserable as you are right now. Sometimes he makes bad decisions, but he’s been hurt in the past, and I think he’s scared to get hurt again.”

“But he-”

“I know. Sometimes he ends up hurting the people he cares about in an attempt to protect himself. Not saying he’s not an asshole for doing so but….” She gestures to the hard-drive. “I think you both deserve a second chance, if you want one.”

Eric looks down, feeling the weight of whatever is on this drive against his lap. He listens to Lardo’s footsteps make their way to the door, barely registering the “Love you, Bits. Good night,” as she lets the door close behind her.

He holds the drive in his hand, glancing between it and his laptop for several seconds. He might be scared of it, but it’s never going to go away no matter how hard he tries, and he doesn’t think he can handle seeing Jack again with this new knowledge that his feelings run deeper than he’d ever planned they’d go. As if _any_ of this was part of the plan.

He picks up his phone and reads the time; midnight. 

As if Eric’s going to be getting any sleep regardless.

He opens his laptop. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

Eric is angry.

Angry at Jack for being such an _idiot_. 

“Lord,” he whispers to himself, eyes burning from staring at his laptop screen for several hours straight. 

Once he started reading, he couldn’t stop. It pulled him in from the very first line, this story Jack created. 

This story _he _and Jack created, because it’s definitely all too familiar for it to be anything else. 

[[ _“Do you ever want to just….do something completely out of your comfort zone?” Evan asks, leaning back in his chair and tucking his pen behind his ear. _

_“I didn’t used to, no,” John replies, looking up from his laptop. “It was comfortable to just stick to what I knew, you know?”_

_“So, what changed?” _

_“I met you.”_

_“Oh.”_

_John moves his gaze to the ceiling, looking anywhere but at the man in front of him. “I don’t know why, but meeting you, getting to know you….It made me passionate about writing again. ‘Muse’ may be a bit dramatic but,” he finally looks back at Evan and smiles. “You definitely inspire me.”_

_“I think we inspire _each other,” _Evan says. John can see the blush begin to bloom across his face. “I’m so proud of everything you’ve written and I can’t wait to see it on the shelves, but I gotta be honest….I don’t really want this to end.”_

_Reaching across the table to take Evan’s hand in his, John replies, “It doesn’t have to.” _]]

Eric scrolls down to the next page, but there isn’t one. That’s where the story ends, or at least, that’s how far Jack has gotten. He wipes at the wetness on his cheek and checks the time; three in the morning. Jack should be home by now. 

Before Eric can second guess himself, he closes his laptop, grabs his keys, and leaves the apartment as quietly as possible. 

John is right, it _doesn’t_ have to end, not if Eric can help it. 

~~~~~~~~~~

Eric makes it to Jack’s apartment in record time, hitting the elevator button a little too enthusiastically. 

He waits. It doesn’t open.

He hits the button again. Nothing.

A few more seconds. The light gets stuck on the second floor. 

He looks to his right and sees the entrance to the stairway. 

Fuck it. 

His thighs are burning and Eric curses the fact that Jack lives on the sixth floor.

When he finally makes it to Jack’s door, breath coming in shallow gasps and his hand poised to knock, Eric pauses. 

What if Jack doesn’t answer? If he _does_, what is Eric supposed to say? He’s so out of breath and so _tired_. 

He knocks once. No answer.

He knocks again. Still nothing.

He knocks _one more time_. The lock on the door clicks open. 

And there’s Jack, in boxers and an oversized t-shirt, hair sticking up all over the place. 

Despite looking like he’d just woken up, his eyes are wide as he says, “Eric? What are you- You’re all out of breath! You could’ve texted-”

“Jack,” Eric says, stepping closer until their toes brush. 

Eric doesn’t know what he’s _supposed _to say, so he doesn’t.

He gets on his tip-toes and kisses Jack right on his stupid mouth. 

He can feel Jack freeze at the contact. Panicking, Eric starts to pull away, to apologize and leave as quickly as he can, but then he feels two big hands on his hips, and suddenly Jack is kissing _him_. Eric responds with fervor, locking his hands behind Jack’s neck and pulling him down to meet him. Jack begins to tug him forward, making them stumble through the door and into Jack’s apartment. 

Eric quickly loses track of how long they’ve been kissing, the feeling of Jack’s lips on his and the tightness at which he holds onto Eric’s hips being the only two things on his mind. HIs hands are tangled in Jack’s bedhead when they finally break apart to breathe. 

“You idiot,” Eric whispers, resting his forehead on Jack’s collarbone. 

Jack loosens his grip slightly, and Eric misses the pressure immediately. “Bitty, I- Why are you here? Not that I’m complaining, but-”

“I read it.”

He can feel Jack’s breath hitch as he asks, “Read what?”

“Your book.”

He looks up to see Jack’s confused frown. “Yeah….You helped me write it.”

Eric can’t help but laugh at that, slapping Jack lightly on the chest. “Not that book, silly! The other one.”

“What do you mean other-” Jack’s eyes widen and a blush spreads across his cheeks. “Oh….How did you-”

“Shitty.”

Jack sighs. “Right….Did you- did you like it?”

Eric places his hands on Jack’s shoulders and says, “What do _you_ think?”

Jack ducks his head and gives a tired laugh. 

“Jack, why did you replace me?”

His laughter stops abruptly and his grip on Eric tightens once more as he replies, “Because I- I didn’t want you to read it.”

“Why?”

“Cause it’s- you know….” He starts rubbing small circles into Eric’s hip with his thumb. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. When Shitty read it he- he said it was pretty obvious.”

Moving his hand to Jack’s cheek, Eric asks, “Why would it make me uncomfortable?”

“I was positive that you couldn’t possibly feel the same way,” Jack says, leaning into Eric’s touch. “And even though Shitty said I should tell you I….I was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“That telling you would ruin everything.”

Eric shakes his head and smiles. “Oh honey, I think we’ve already passed that scenario with flying colors.”

“Yeah….I’m sorry,” Jack moves his hands up to Eric’s waist. 

“So am I.” When Jack gives him a confused look, Eric continues, “I should’ve let you talk to me when you wanted to. My stubbornness wasn’t helping anybody.” He pokes Jack’s chest. “Though, to be fair, _someone _didn’t talk to me in the first place and had his best friend do the dirty work _for _him.” 

Jack laughs, “I really _am_ an idiot, eh?”

“I think we both are, sweetheart,” Eric says, then smiles wryly. “So…._Evan_, huh?”

Jack ducks his head again, and Eric realizes just how adorable he finds it to be. “Haha, yeah.”

“Is it true? Do I really inspire you?”

Looking back into Eric’s eyes, Jack says, “You do a lot more than inspire me, bud.” 

Smiling so wide his face begins to hurt, Eric starts to pull Jack down for another kiss. Jack stops him, moving behind him to close and lock the door to his apartment. Has it been open the entire time? Eric really hopes they didn’t wake any neighbors with their dramatic confessions. 

Damn. Eric’s life really _is _a cliche romance novel now.

Jack quickly makes his way back to Eric, taking no time in wrapping his arms around Eric’s waist and pulling him in for a slow, knee buckling kiss.

Eric breaks the kiss suddenly, a fairly impressive yawn falling out of his mouth. 

“Have you slept at all tonight?” Jack asks, brushing Eric’s bangs out of his face.

“No, I was up all night reading a _certain someone’s _book,” He closes his eyes at the feel of Jack’s fingers in his hair. “Which I’m very frustrated about, by the way. How dare you leave it unfinished like that.”

“Sorry, bud. I ran out of ideas a while ago. Think I might be having some writers’ block again.” Jack gestures his head over to the hallway. “Wanna help me beat it?”

Eric shakes his head at how cheesy it sounds, but he still replies, “I’d love to.”

Once they’re under Jack’s covers, they tangle their limbs together and trade lazy kisses, waiting for sleep to take over.

After a while, Jack pulls back, pushing himself up by his elbow as he lays on his side. “Wait, does this mean you’re my editor again?”

“I would think so, sweetheart. Why shouldn’t I be?” Eric asks, resting his head on the pillow and looking up at Jack with a soft expression.

“....Conflict of interest?”

Giving a tired laugh, Eric pulls Jack back down beside him. 

“I think we can make it work.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's the end, folks!! Sort of...still have the epilogue which will be posted by the end of the week. 
> 
> But holy shit, I can't believe I finally finished this fic! Kinda sad that it took over a year, but at least now I can start on one of the other AU's I've had planned once the epilogue is done! 
> 
> NEXT UP: the epilogue!! Book tour 2.0...with less angst this time-


	12. Epilogue

_ **One year later...** _

“Do you wanna sit in the front row or…?”

“Honey, of course I do!”

Jack’s shoulders relax slightly as he smiles down at Bitty. “Just making sure. Thanks, bud.”

“Of course, sweetheart,” Bitty replies, patting Jack on the shoulder and reaching up to give him an assuring kiss on the cheek. “Gotta get the best seat in the house.”

“Haha, yeah,” Jack laughs, leaning into the touch. He looks over his shoulder and sees the store manager give him a nod in the direction of the podium. 

He leans down to place a quick kiss on Bitty’s lips; even after a year, he still has to force himself to pull away. 

“Good luck, sweetpea,” Bitty whispers, keeping the moment between just them even though they can both feel the stares of the crowd on their backs. 

Jack smiles, nods, and makes his way to the podium. 

“Good afternoon, everyone. Thank you all for coming,” He starts, looking out at the rows of people that are there just for him. The turnout is bigger than last year, but somehow Jack is less anxious this time around. No doubt it has something to do with the certain blond head of hair constantly in his peripheral. 

“My name is Jack Zimmermann, author of _Is This the End _and its sequel, _This is Not the End_, which came out last Pride Month,” He thumbs at the corner of the book in front of him. “I thought it was fitting to release this new book, _Work in Progress_, during Pride as well. This story….means a lot to me. I hope it can come to mean something to you too.”

“I’d like to start off with the dedication.” Jack opens his copy to the first page and takes a deep breath. “To Eric….”

He looks up from the page, and his eyes catch Bitty’s immediately. Right there, in the front row, exactly where he should be. 

“Thank you for being the story I was always meant to find.”

Bitty’s smile grows wider somehow, tears beginning to form as he mouths an “I love you.” 

Jack wishes he could say it back, but he can’t, not right now. 

Instead, he opens to the first chapter and lets the words say it for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is!! I'm so excited to finally be done with this fic! To be honest, I lost my momentum for it about halfway through (and you can probably tell) but I told myself I was gonna complete it no matter what....Only took me a year and 2 months-
> 
> I have a few AUs that I've been thinking about for a while, and I'd love to hear your suggestions on which one you'd be most interested in reading next! Here's the list (they're all zimbits btw):
> 
> 1\. "and they were roommates....."  
2\. Go Figure AU (that one disney channel original)  
3\. Figure skater Bitty meets Jack in the Q  
4\. dreamwalker AU (also sorta soulmate au??)
> 
> Comment your top choices or come talk to me about it on Tumblr at [b1ttle](https://b1ttle.tumblr.com/)! I love hearing what you guys think and taking ideas for future fics <3

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always appreciated! <3
> 
> Check out another fic of mine [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23573998) if you're into royalty/magic Zimbits AUs and awkward attempts at worldbuilding-
> 
> Follow me on Tumblr ([b1ttle](https://b1ttle.tumblr.com/) OR [marc0bot](https://marc0bot.tumblr.com/))! I'm always down to talk about this au, take prompts, or just talk about my love for these soft hockey boys uwu


End file.
